A Date with History (Part 1): Khajuraho

When I told friends I was going to Khajuraho, I was mostly met with astonishment. Why was I going to Khajuraho - famous for its erotic carvings - with family? The truth is, I hadn't quite thought of that when acquiescing to my mother's plans. All I noticed at the time was her mentioning that it was a World Heritage Site - after all, there are only 43 in India so far. I went thinking, 'jo hoga, dekha jayega'.

Khajuraho has both an airport and railway station, but very little connectivity. So we - mother, grandmother and I took a train to Satna. From there, it was a bone-rattling ride through NH75 to reach Khajuraho. It was a schizophrenic highway. At places, it was smooth and looked newly laid. At others, it had been left in a dug-up state, making it so uneven that I was beginning to think Mumbai's potholes are better. We stopped on the way for some moong bhajiyas and chai, while our driver complained that the road had been dug up and left like that ever since 'Modi sarkar' came to power. In all fairness, he was a professed Congress voter.

Caste in stone

We reached the hotel by midday. By the time we felt energetic enough to go out, it was evening.

Evening time is beautiful-light time

Khajuraho has both Jain and Hindu temples - we went to the Jain ones first, but then got shooed out at around 6pm. The temples were open from sunset to sunrise, as it turned out. But there was a sound and light show at the Western Group of Temples after dark, so we headed there. The son-et-lumière - as it is called when you want to sound fancy – was in Amitabh Bachchan's voice!

For those unfamiliar with the concept, it's like an audio-only play with light effects projected onto the monuments and the grounds. The effect is that you feel like the story being narrated is happening in the distance. We sat down on plastic chairs arranged on the lawn and waited. A few repeated sound-checks later, the show started. Amitabh Bachchan narrating as the 'Spirit of the Sculptor' was fabulous, but most of the other voice actors spoke in a a decidedly British accent and used words like, 'sire'. You would almost expect the Queen to suddenly pop in and say hi.

And this is one of the less imposing ones.

The narration merged myth and history. The local legend is that the first Chandela king was the product of an affair between his mother and the moon god Chandra. According to this version, the Chandela kings built the temples as penance for their mother's illicit affair. 

Historians say that the temples were commissioned between 900-1300 AD, to establish Khajuraho as a religious capital. This was a time when casteism was well-entrenched in society, and the show quite accurately portrayed this. Here's a sample of what it sounded like:

King: I shall build a grand temple!
Minister:  Splendid, sire!

The temple is built and the king is impressed.

King: What a grand temple!
Minister: It is indeed splendid, sire!
King: Let us gift land to the Brahmins in honour of this.
Minister: Splendid, sire!
Me: (silently) Butwhy?

Dignity of labor was and is an alien concept - maybe that's why we keep getting reports of NRIs who go abroad and mistreat their domestic help (who are often Indians). Some people say, "But the Vedas don't mention caste...". Right, we forgot to follow the Vedas for at least a thousand years now.

The best proof is literally wrought into the stone. All around the temple walls, we have figures of women in various poses. They're coming out from a bath, towelling their hair, yawning luxuriantly (male gaze, anyone?). Or they're doing their hair, or looking into a mirror or coyly writing a letter, or taking care of a child. These are either apsaras (divine nymphs) or aristocratic women. When you manage to tear your eyes away from their voluptuous figures, you may or may not notice the small figures in the bottom accompanying them. 

Those are the servants. They're half the size of the main figures (sometimes even smaller). Some are holding a box, and some are carrying a bag. And the bag is even a totally proletarian jhola. It's like a medieval version of Ramu kaka.

What a Fig. 1

Here's what I think would have happened when the temple was being built.

King: Let's make a temple!
Architect: I have a terrific design in mind for it! I'll start work straight away.
King: That's splendid. Here, take some gold. We'll name the temple after me.
Architect: But what about me?
Sculptor: And what about me?
King: Your work will live on in the stone, I guess?

What if the sculptor was protesting through his art? Maybe that's why the height of figure ∝ social status.

But the reaction of visitors and guides now is pretty much along the lines of:

"Wow, what a figure!"
"Wow, what jewels!"
"Wow, so much expression!"

The sculptors must be doing facepalms in their graves.

(Continued in Part 2)