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| the gopura at Channekeshava Temple, Belur |
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| Keshsava Temple in Somanathapur |
Entry Twelve – A Holy House
In the ancient near eastern world of the Hebrew Testament, King David longed to build a temple for the worship of Yahweh, the God of the Hebrew people. However, it fell to his son, Solomon, to build the temple, after the military accomplishments of his father gave way to a time of peace in Solomon’s reign. The writer of 1 Kings describes Solomon’s goal in words given to the king: “You know that my father David could not build a house for the name of the Lord his God because of the warfare with which his enemies surrounded him . . . but now the Lord my God has given me rest on every side; there is neither adversary nor misfortune. So I intend to build a house to the Lord my God” (1 Kings 5: 3-5).
But such is not unique to Israel, or anywhere; in human history, when warfare subsides and there is peace along the borders, when there is money in the treasury and stability in the Kingdom, kings of centuries past could and have engaged in ambitious building projects. Certainly this was the case among the Hoysala dynasty, which ruled in southern India in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; after a time of conquest, defeating their Chola rivals to the east, with peace on the borders and within them, for almost one hundred years temples were built to honour Vishnu through what is now southern Karnataka state. Under the Hoysalas, the number of followers of Vishnayism (worship of Vishnu) and of Lingayatism (a Shaivite sect, holding to a distinct worship of Shiva) increased, particularly in the twelfth century. The Hoysalas were major patrons of art and architecture, and under their rule in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, as Europe was building its cathedrals, the Hoysalaa were sponsoring widespread temple constructions; hundreds of temples and shrines were built across Karnataka, and even now, over one hundred remain, including seventeen sites that are significant either historically or religiously, or both.
We have now visited two of these key sites, the Keshava Temple in Somnathapur, and the Channekeshava Temple in Belur. Both are built on a star-shaped foundation and are distinctive by their squat pyramid shape in this star formation. The Belur Temple was the first built; commissioned in 1116, it may have taken over one hundred years to complete. Dedicated to the god Vishnu in his incarnation as Krishna (under the name Keshava, one of many by which Krishna is known), one sees carvings of some of the various forms of Krishna, as well as those of another incarnation of Vishnu, Lord Rama. It is still an active temple, and pilgrims and worshippers continued to make their way through the entrance gate, which as is typical was surmounted with about a seven-storey gopura, or pyramid-shaped tower carved with images of the god Krishna in his different forms, and his consorts.
At both temples, in Belur, which continues as a site of active worship, and Somanathapura, which is now an historical site but no longer active as a temple, we removed our shoes before entering. A shoe guardian will mind your shoes for 20 rupees, although we had already opted to leave ours in the van that dropped us off at the entrance. Shoes may not be worn in the holy places, and in some, the gatekeeper may request that leather bags or belts be left behind, for a modest guardian’s fee, perhaps 20 rupees. Although it is monsoon season, the sun shone brightly both days, and both days, in both places, we visited the temple sites in the afternoon – thousand-year old cut stone paving blocks get very warm on tender, western feet by the time the sun has been on them all day, perhaps an encouragement to move quickly and not linger too long at any one outside spot, unless it has been sitting in the shade for a while.
In the ancient near eastern world of the Hebrew Testament, King David longed to build a temple for the worship of Yahweh, the God of the Hebrew people. However, it fell to his son, Solomon, to build the temple, after the military accomplishments of his father gave way to a time of peace in Solomon’s reign. The writer of 1 Kings describes Solomon’s goal in words given to the king: “You know that my father David could not build a house for the name of the Lord his God because of the warfare with which his enemies surrounded him . . . but now the Lord my God has given me rest on every side; there is neither adversary nor misfortune. So I intend to build a house to the Lord my God” (1 Kings 5: 3-5).
But such is not unique to Israel, or anywhere; in human history, when warfare subsides and there is peace along the borders, when there is money in the treasury and stability in the Kingdom, kings of centuries past could and have engaged in ambitious building projects. Certainly this was the case among the Hoysala dynasty, which ruled in southern India in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; after a time of conquest, defeating their Chola rivals to the east, with peace on the borders and within them, for almost one hundred years temples were built to honour Vishnu through what is now southern Karnataka state. Under the Hoysalas, the number of followers of Vishnayism (worship of Vishnu) and of Lingayatism (a Shaivite sect, holding to a distinct worship of Shiva) increased, particularly in the twelfth century. The Hoysalas were major patrons of art and architecture, and under their rule in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, as Europe was building its cathedrals, the Hoysalaa were sponsoring widespread temple constructions; hundreds of temples and shrines were built across Karnataka, and even now, over one hundred remain, including seventeen sites that are significant either historically or religiously, or both.
We have now visited two of these key sites, the Keshava Temple in Somnathapur, and the Channekeshava Temple in Belur. Both are built on a star-shaped foundation and are distinctive by their squat pyramid shape in this star formation. The Belur Temple was the first built; commissioned in 1116, it may have taken over one hundred years to complete. Dedicated to the god Vishnu in his incarnation as Krishna (under the name Keshava, one of many by which Krishna is known), one sees carvings of some of the various forms of Krishna, as well as those of another incarnation of Vishnu, Lord Rama. It is still an active temple, and pilgrims and worshippers continued to make their way through the entrance gate, which as is typical was surmounted with about a seven-storey gopura, or pyramid-shaped tower carved with images of the god Krishna in his different forms, and his consorts.
At both temples, in Belur, which continues as a site of active worship, and Somanathapura, which is now an historical site but no longer active as a temple, we removed our shoes before entering. A shoe guardian will mind your shoes for 20 rupees, although we had already opted to leave ours in the van that dropped us off at the entrance. Shoes may not be worn in the holy places, and in some, the gatekeeper may request that leather bags or belts be left behind, for a modest guardian’s fee, perhaps 20 rupees. Although it is monsoon season, the sun shone brightly both days, and both days, in both places, we visited the temple sites in the afternoon – thousand-year old cut stone paving blocks get very warm on tender, western feet by the time the sun has been on them all day, perhaps an encouragement to move quickly and not linger too long at any one outside spot, unless it has been sitting in the shade for a while.
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| Hanuman, the monkey god |
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| Ganesha, the elephant god |
The fees for entry are modest, especially for Indians; 5 rupees, about 10 cents, is the admission price for Indians. Foreign visitors pay 100 rupees, a little less than two dollars at current exhange rates. And there are always opportunities to spend more money, usually in small quantities. Floral garlands, with jasmine and marigold, can be purchased and worn, or flowers purchased to be laid on the steps, or altar, or linga (the phallus-like small pillar of stone that represents the presence of the god Shiva in the temple). There are leaves, and beads, and strings tied for necklaces and bracelets, often in brilliant orange, which are worn as signs of religious devotion and of having made the pilgrimage to the temple. There may be a souvenir stand, or several, and people pressing postcards on you, and always, always, there are small, physically challenged seniors, or children carrying babies, or women who seem to be bearing the worries of the world on their shoulders and in their faces, and they are asking, begging, sometimes pleading, for just a few rupees. Knowing what to do can be difficult in the face of the beggars’ sorrowful states; one wonders, naturally, how many depend on the kindness and compassion of pilgrims and visitors, and how many are being prostituted as beggars by someone who will take their handouts from them. I try to keep ten rupee notes (about twenty cents) in my pocket and handy so that I can discreetly slip the note into their outstretched hands, hopefully out of the sight of other beggars who would immediately swarm to me if they saw my willingness to give. I feel sorry for the loss of dignity that leads people to beg, whether or not my money is needed by them, whether or not there is a scam at work, and without asking what that money will be used to buy – I only hope that sometimes, when I surrender a small almsgiving to someone who appears destitute, sometimes, it will be well used by someone who really needs it. Honestly, I think I can afford to take the loss on the others.
People have been coming to these temples for almost a thousand years, probably passing beggars in every year of every century. And the Hoysalas, it seems, were intentional about where temples were built. As with the cathedral-building of medieval Europe, it was a boost to the local economy both in the construction of the edifice, and a boost forever afterwards, as they would draw the pilgrims in, who would then require food and lodging, and flowers and spices and coconuts for offering.
The entire temple walls, made of a local soft stone, are carved in detailed and ornate ways, the carvings forming rows or stratifications that rise up the inwardly sloping walls. Virtually every space, every square inch, of the exterior walls is carved, and no two carvings are exactly alike. Each tier of carvings depicts something different, beginning with elephants at the bottom, some charging, some playful, some walking in a stately procession, trunk to tail, and yet others seemingly in a more playful mood. There are 644 elephants altogether around the bottom tier, in Belur, denoting different moods and attitudes and poses, and possibly many more in the bottom tier at Somanathapura.
Elephants seem to hold a special place in Indian religious history; strong and steady, they surround both the Keshava and Channekeshava temples as though to lend a solid foundation to the faith that is expressed in the solid stone temple. Joanna tells me I have to ride an elephant before I come home, and others have told me I can’t leave India without riding an elephant. So far the only real elephants I have seen are those giving rides in the gardens at the Mysore Palace, so I might have to make a trip back there; I could make my way to the Mysore Zoo, where elephants give rides, to make sure I get in my elephant ride before leaving India.
While elephants abound in the temples, they are not the only carvings. Each row or tier has its own theme, both in the temple at Belur and the slightly later temple at Somanathapura. From elephants, one looks to the next level to a series of lion heads, symbolic of courage, intertwined with a course of carved beads. Above this are galloping horsemen, soldiers and hunters, surmounted with floral carvings, creepers and vines and flowers with pearl garlands as symbols of the beauty of creation. Scenes from the Hindu epics the Mahabharata and the Ramayana are there: images of the activity of the gods in battle, in creative pose, in sensuous array, and of Rama – another incarnation of Vishnu – who was sent into exile and then entered into a quest with his ally, the monkey-god Hanuman, to save his wife Sita from the evil demon. Women dancing, and men and women in sexual poses, and singers, and more floral motifs – the tiers continue up over archers and soldiers and battles, and all surmounted by images of the gods themselves, in which Vishnu as Krishna predominates.
People have been coming to these temples for almost a thousand years, probably passing beggars in every year of every century. And the Hoysalas, it seems, were intentional about where temples were built. As with the cathedral-building of medieval Europe, it was a boost to the local economy both in the construction of the edifice, and a boost forever afterwards, as they would draw the pilgrims in, who would then require food and lodging, and flowers and spices and coconuts for offering.
The entire temple walls, made of a local soft stone, are carved in detailed and ornate ways, the carvings forming rows or stratifications that rise up the inwardly sloping walls. Virtually every space, every square inch, of the exterior walls is carved, and no two carvings are exactly alike. Each tier of carvings depicts something different, beginning with elephants at the bottom, some charging, some playful, some walking in a stately procession, trunk to tail, and yet others seemingly in a more playful mood. There are 644 elephants altogether around the bottom tier, in Belur, denoting different moods and attitudes and poses, and possibly many more in the bottom tier at Somanathapura.
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| always elephants |
Elephants seem to hold a special place in Indian religious history; strong and steady, they surround both the Keshava and Channekeshava temples as though to lend a solid foundation to the faith that is expressed in the solid stone temple. Joanna tells me I have to ride an elephant before I come home, and others have told me I can’t leave India without riding an elephant. So far the only real elephants I have seen are those giving rides in the gardens at the Mysore Palace, so I might have to make a trip back there; I could make my way to the Mysore Zoo, where elephants give rides, to make sure I get in my elephant ride before leaving India.
While elephants abound in the temples, they are not the only carvings. Each row or tier has its own theme, both in the temple at Belur and the slightly later temple at Somanathapura. From elephants, one looks to the next level to a series of lion heads, symbolic of courage, intertwined with a course of carved beads. Above this are galloping horsemen, soldiers and hunters, surmounted with floral carvings, creepers and vines and flowers with pearl garlands as symbols of the beauty of creation. Scenes from the Hindu epics the Mahabharata and the Ramayana are there: images of the activity of the gods in battle, in creative pose, in sensuous array, and of Rama – another incarnation of Vishnu – who was sent into exile and then entered into a quest with his ally, the monkey-god Hanuman, to save his wife Sita from the evil demon. Women dancing, and men and women in sexual poses, and singers, and more floral motifs – the tiers continue up over archers and soldiers and battles, and all surmounted by images of the gods themselves, in which Vishnu as Krishna predominates.
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| singers for the king |
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| An image of angry Vishnu |
One of my favourite sights at the temples is the women in the saris; against the hard, grey and black rock walls of the temples, the soft silk of the saris in brilliant colours and patterns seems to flow like air as the women walk against the background of rigid stone, and forms such a wonderful juxtaposition of colour, movement and texture. I will admit to taking some pictures of these women, for their saris and their colour and life, and it is easy to be discreet at this. Our young women are often the subject of much interest, especially with their blonde hair and fair skin; this was particularly true when we were at the temples at Belur and Somanathapura, and they were arranging themselves for a group picture. Most, if not all, of the Indian visitors to the temple site stopped to watch them, and no one was looking at me, so while attention was otherwise distracted, I will admit to taking pictures of Indian people, men and women, in their soft colourful clothing against the hard, dull stones. I will not post these pictures to my blog, naturally, as that would be inappropriate on this public blog, so enjoy the images of the temple I have added and imagine the people, pilgrims, enjoying the sense of history in these places, and worshipping in what is, to them, truly an axis mundi, a centre of the world in which god can be found. Add to these sights the rich and potent smell of jasmine, flowers, incense burning, and the sounds of prayers and chanting, and it quickly becomes a religious experience of the senses that one enters into, rather than just remaining a place that one visits and thinks about.
And you can come and visit me when I am home, and I will show you some pictures there.
The temples may be old, and whether active or only historical remains, they still offer a great sense of the long and noble history of India, and they still offer a sense of significance and the presence of the divine in a way that shapes identity and gives meaning. In their hierophanic import, they open their visitors to a deepened sense of humility in the presence of the divine, and to a deeper pride in being Indian.
The temples may be old, and whether active or only historical remains, they still offer a great sense of the long and noble history of India, and they still offer a sense of significance and the presence of the divine in a way that shapes identity and gives meaning. In their hierophanic import, they open their visitors to a deepened sense of humility in the presence of the divine, and to a deeper pride in being Indian.
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| that's me, examining the tiers of carving -- "I don't think those people are dancing" |
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