Terracotta Treasure Trove

When we reached Bishnupur it was almost noon and ‘the land of red soil’ had turned copper under the blazing midday sun. A mere 15-minute rickshaw ride to our hotel through the sweltering streets and I was already regretting my decision.  May was certainly not the best timeto visit this part of Bengal. Also, the town looked nothing like the fabled land lined with exquisite terracotta temples—all I could see were concrete jungles and huge hoardings of Baluchari sarees.

However, the manager of the hotel had booked us a rickshaw, whichhappened to be the main mode of transport in the town, for local sightseeing and at around 2 pm we started for Shyam Bandh and on the itinerary were four temples— Lalji, Radhey Shyam, Keshto Raya and Shyam Rai. Both Keshta Raya and Shyam Rai temples were ticketed monuments but our rickshawala had already purchased it for us from the ASI counter at Raashmancha.

Lalji Temple: Our first pit stop was Lalji temple-- built in 1658 by Bir Singha, this laterite temple, like most temples of Bishnupur, is dedicated to lord Krishna and Radha, our rickshawalah informed us.

This is a single spire temple or an ekratna temple.

Among the temples of Bishnupur, the ratna style is very common. It is markedly different from the other style prevalent in this part—the chala style. Although both have similar rectangular base structure, the sloping roof of the chala style becomes more flat and boast one or many churas or ratnas which are turrets constructed as small temples. Depending on the number churas the structures are named as ekratna, panchratna, nabaratna etc. Although, according to many, this idea of installing a cylindrical spire with semi-spherical dome on top of the temple was a direct influence of Muslim architecture; the practice of decorating Hindu temples with miniature shrines was also common in other parts of India.

Within the boundary walls are a nahabat khana and a nat mandir as well. However, the carvings are a sad shadow of a glorious past and the scorching sun was making it unbearable to walk barefoot on the laterite floors and we hop-skip-jumped back to our rickshaw.

Radhya Shyam Temple: Not far from Lalji is another laterite ekratna temple—the Radhey Shyam temple.

Built in 1758 by Chaitanya Singha it is covered with elaborate stucco motifs of floral, geometrical patterns and depictions from the puranas.  The entrances to the sanctum have three arches each, but most of the carvings have fallen prey to time, weather and human neglect. However, some wall reliefs like Chaitanya Dev with six hands, Vishnu resting on ‘Ananta’ the snake and panels on Krishna Leela, Dashavataar, panels of Dashavataar, still reflect its past grandeur.

Keshto Raya Temple or Jor Bangla: Our next pit stop was Keshto Raya temple or Jor Bangla. Built by Raghunatha Singha in 1655 AD, this is one of the most famous temples of the region because of its structural pattern, our rickshwalah, who had by then doubled up as our guide, elaborated.  However, nothing had prepared us for the visual treat that was waiting.

All terracotta temples are characterized by arched entrances, curved cornices and internal domes and vaults. However, these temples are usually classified by their superstructures. Keshto Raya temple is undoubtedly one of the best examples of jor-bangla style—a variation of the ek-bangla structure where the roofs are shaped like thatched hut roof consisting of two sloping roofs (hence it is also called do-chala)ending in a cornice and the interior is a single rectangular chamber. Jor-bangla temples have two such do-chalas, which are joined together and further accentuated by another roof on top. However, what blew me away was not so much the architecture but the intricate and extensive carvings—every inch of the structure is covered with scenes from Ramayana, Mahabharata, Krishna Leela, and daily life. 

The ornamentation, as is the characteristics of the terracotta temples of Bishnupur, is composed of rows of intricately carved burnt-brick panels. In most temples these panels are arranged according to a standard pattern with large panels above the arches depicting elaborate battle scenes, corner panels, arch frames and columns having images of gods and goddesses as well as dancers and musicians, two friezes on the bottom showing scenes from Krishna Leela and daily life.

Among panels depicting Bhishma lying on a bed of arrows, Ram killing Taraka Rakshashi, Buddha breaking fast by accepting food from Sujata, Krisha’s victory over Kalia and Hanuman holding Ravana upside down, I also discerned a Portuguese warship carrying soldiers with firearms and a half-man-half-fish playing guitar as well!

Jugol Kishor Krishna Balaram Temple: The sun had mellowed down by then and the copper earth was exuding an orange hue. Since Shyam Rai Temple was at a stone’s throw from Keshto Raya, we decided to

walk. On our way I spotted some brick ruins jutting out from the green foliage. A closer look revealed two deul-shaped temples. Rekha deul style, most common in temples of Orissa, is characterised by a square sanctum, vertical projections or rekha on the walls, a sikhara, a large amalaka and kalasa on top and chaitya (mesh) decoration covering the facade. Known as the Jugol Kishor Krishna Balaram Temple, this structure like many others in Bishnupur lies in a shambles, even as its privileged neighbours are installed with lights and manicured gardens.

Gumghar: Next we bumped into a weird square shaped structure sans any door or windows. According to our rickshawalah it was known as the Gumghar and served as the torture chamber of the Malla kings. The guilty would be thrown into the chamber of the gumghar from the opening on top and several sharp weapons were installed inside to wound the person. He was left to die there from his injuries and pain. Scary indeed I thought. However, on second thought, it seemed a rather unlikely place to build a torture chamber so close to the palace and a brief background research revealed theories that this could have been a granary or a water reservoir. In fact, in front of the Gumghar is a trench with holes, known as Foara Khana(fountain house) and water from the Gumghar used to flow to this Foara Khana.

Shyam Rai Temple: When we finally reached the Shyam Rai temple it was already dusk and the brick temple was shimmering under the twilight. One of the best examples of the Pancha-Ratna style, this is one of the chief prioritized monuments of the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) and has gone through vigorous renovations. The temple has a central octagonal shikhara while the four corner shikharas has a square base.  According to art historians, the Shyama Raya temple Built in 1643 by King Raghunath Singh is the second pancharatna temple built in Bengal and arguably the finest. 

The motifs that I saw on the temple were all etched out in minute details and were certainly some of the best examples of terracotta art. The last rays of the setting sun were imbuing an ethereal glow to the brick structure and the wall reliefs of Indra fighting from an elephant, the huge ‘Rasamandala’, scenes from Krishna Leela, battle between Ram and Ravan, royal hunting scenes seemed to be slowly coming alive under its magical spell. Before the huge halogen lamps could submerge this terracotta trance I chose to leave and return to the concrete chaos that is the ‘other’ Bishnupur.

Madan Mohan temple: Next morning, to our delight, the weather had suddenly become cloudy soaking the sting from the sun. We started at around 11-30 and headed straight to Madan Mohan Temple—another ekratna temple constructed outside the fort compound in 1694 by Durjana Singh Deva.  This was one of the largest and most ornate yet the least complex temple structures of Bishnupur.  The original idol of Madanmohan was brought from Birbhum and later shipped to Kolkata.  The brick panels depict intricate scenes of slaying of five sons of Pandava princes, mace fight between Bheema and Durjodahan, battles between Hanuman and his army of monkey and Ravana and his soldiers, Hanuman and his army building a bridge to cross the sea to reach Lanka, Sita languishing in Ashok Ban, nine Gopinis forming an elephant. However, the main theme is Krishna Leela and most of the panels depict Sri Krishna’s childhood

or his romance with Radha. The base of the walls are occupied by rows of birds—sparrow, duck, geese as well as fictitious species. On top of it are rows of delicately crafted deer.

Shankhari Para: My neck had already started to pain and we decided to take a break from the panel-spotting. Since the temple was not far from Shankhari Para and Ma has this eternal fascination for sleek, intricate shankhas (conch shell bangles) we thought of checking out some shops. And just as Bishnupur had mesmerised with its baroque terracotta temples, shankhari para left us spell bound with its sheer variety of elaborately-carved conch shell bangles. And apart from bangles, the artisans of Bishnupur were famous for making intricate carvings of mythological characters on the delicate surface of conch shells. However, owning a piece of such an exquisite work of art was worth a fortune and we were happy (and almost broke) with two pairs of shankhas.

Dashabatar cards: Our next pit stop was not on the cards but had everything to do with cards. Seeing our interest in local art and artists, our rickshawalah took us to a dimly-lit house where a man clad in blue cheque lungi and ganjee was painting some small discs.

“These are Dashabatar cards and are found only in Bishnupur,” our rickshawalah proudly pointed out. The man was busy painting the cards and initially not too keen on talking. However, it was only after we promised to buy some cards (which eventually cost us a fortune) that he gave us a broad smile and turned into a chatterbox.  According to Sital Fouzdar, he was the 87th generation of artists employed in making such cards. His forefathers had started making Dashabatar Taas around 1200 years ago under the patronage of the Malla kings of Bishnupur. These cards have their predecessors in Mughal Ganjifa. In most part of India, instead of Muslim motifs, hindu gods and goddesses were more popular and in case of Dashabatar cards two suits were added to the 8-suited Mughal ganjifa and all ten suits were named after ten incarnations of Lord

Vishnu. Dashabatar figures are frequently seen on the panels of various temples of Bishnupur and the influence of Dashabatar card paintings is also seen on ‘patachitras’.  These cards are made by pasting together old pieces of cloth with tamarind glue. Once the layer of cloth becomes stiff it is dried and cut into circles and the base colour is applied. After that figurines are drawn on each card by hand. Apart from Dashabatar cards, we found a stack of another kind of cards. Known as “Naqsh Taas”, this pack of 48 cards is generally used for gambling. These ornate cards are produced in two different sets—one is large and another is a miniature deck. And the detailing on each card of both the sets as well as the container is breathtakingly beautiful. However, gone are the days when the kings and zamindars would waste hours playing Ganjifa. Now Dashabatar  Taas or Naksh Taas are mostly bought by art connoisseurs or foreign tourists.

Raashmancha: Next on our itinerary was the most imposing and majestic structure of the area—the Raashmancha. Built in 1587 by Bir Hambir, this is the oldest brick temple of Bishnupur and of which J.D. Beglar says in Report of a tour through the Bengal ‘provinces... (A.S.I. Vol. VIII, Calcutta, 1878) “The temple is absolutely unique in style and architecture, not only in Bengal, but in India.”

Raashmanchas were usually octagonal structures characterised by arched openings. These did not boast any idol but were meant as the site where idols from various temples in the vicinity were brought and kept

on the occasion of Raash.  What made the Raashmancha of Bishnupur unique is its architecture. This square-shaped brick temple sits on a 5-foot-high laterite plinth and boasts a pyramidal superstructure.

The main structure is surrounded by a series of “three successive circumambulatory arched passageways” giving it a labyrinthine feel. On top of the roof is a pyramidal structure hemmed with do-chala-style roofs installed in a repetitive fashion. And it is these smaller bangle roofs along with the huge Egypt-inspired pyramidal summit give the whole structure a unique look.  However, this was primarily a brick structure and the terracotta carvings were minimal.

From Raasmancha we started towards Lalbandh and on our way crossed the small gate and the large gate of the fort (of which little remains) and a small chariot-like structure made of laterite stone.

Built in 17th century, this stone chariot is another unique structure of Bishnupur.

Dal Madal: Next was the huge Dal Madal canon. According to myths, when Bhaskar Pandit and his Maratha Bargis tried to attack Bishnupur in 1742, Lord Madan Mohan, the tutelary deity of the Mallas himself had fired this canon and saved the town. The name Dal Madalcomes from Dal

Mardan (enemy crusher) and this huge canon was commissioned by Bir Hambir at Rs 1 lakh 25 thousand in 1600.

Close to Dal Madal is the temple of Chinnamasta—one of the most revered goddesses of Bishnupur. The idol here is of a rare kind. However it is not a terracotta temple but a comparatively new structure.

Seven Laterite Ek Ratna Temples: As we travelled further we reached a group of seven ekratna laterite temples built almost next to one another. It seemed all these temples were once covered with stucco works, however today most of that have eroded.

Nandalala Temple: The first temple of this circuit is the Nandalala Temple.  Probably built in the 17th century this temple has very few carvings left on its walls. This structure has been given the status of a monument of national interest under the ancient monuments and archaeological sites and remains act.

Jor-Mandir: Next to this temple are three similar-looking temples built in 1726 by Krishna Singh. Together, these are tagged as Jor Mandir.

Radhagovinda Temple: In a little distance from Jor Mandir, stands another temple. Known as the Radhagovinda temple, this square structure was built by Krishna Singha in 1729. Here several bass-relief carvings have stucco work. Inside the temple compound is a small but intricate brick chariot.

Radha Madhab Temple: Next temple we visited is another fine example of the ek-ratna style. Radha Madhab temple had a hexagonal spire and ‘rekha’-styled dome. Built in 1737 by Churamoni devi, one of the wives of the Malla king Bir Singha, this temple has some fine carvings of scenes from Krishna-Lila, Dashavatar and Ramayan’s Aranya Kando and Sundara Kanda. Although the wall-reliefs were intricate, most have fallen prey to the ravages of time. There is a ‘do-chala’ ‘Bhog-Mandapa’ inside the compound of this temple which is the sole example of do-chala structures in Bishnupur temples.

Kalachand Temple:  One of the oldest ekratna structures of Bishnupur, this temple was built by Raghunath Singha Dev in 1656. It has three-arched corridors on each side and like Radha Madhab temple boasts a rekha deul on top of the roof. Dedicated to Radha and Krishna, most carvings on this temple depict scenes of Krishna Leela.

Lal Bandh: Bishnupur was once a land punctuated with water bodies. It boasted 9 bandhs (reservoir) and 5 sayors (ponds). Then there were numerous trenches and kundas around the fort. These were dug to solve the problem of water scarcity in the area and were also used for recreational purposes of the members of the royal family. However, most are now covered with silt and the only one that is of some interest to the tourists is the Lal Bandh. Although it has little scenic beauty left, it still lures tourists with its story of Lal Bai.

Raghunath Singh II of Bishnupur had an affair with a dancing girl called Lal bai, and had a child with her. The queen was upset and in a fit of rage she killed the King and drowned Lal Bai in this lake before committing sati. According to another version it was the king who had put Lal Bai and her child in a boat with a hole and left them to drown in this lake.

The still water had soaked up the last rays of the sun. Sitting on the step of Lal Bandh, listening to our autorickshawala narrate the story of the sad fate of Lal Bai, I could feel a chill run down my spine. Who needs facts when you have fiction and the right settings to go with it!

With that our Bishnupur trip had come to an end. Before embarking on the journey I had decided to steer clear from Baluchari sarees, Bishnupuri horses and any kind of museum and hoped to cover everything else within two days. Now it seemed we hadn’t explored even half of the experience that is Bishnupur. It was like hastily flipping through a book without reading it. Each temple of Bishnupur demands a day (and a whole bottle of Relispray for the neck!).

                                                             

Ladakh Festival

The bus ride through the Manali-Leh highway--which was at times a pitched road, at times a narrow strip of land studded with stone chips, at times a dirt road and at times just plain heaps of sand and rock-- was undoubtedly the most exhausting and arduous 8 hours of the trip so far and yet I wanted the journey not to end.  Cut across a gorgeous terrain with jaw-dropping rock formations creating some mind-blowing landscapes devoid of any hint of vegetation, the bus ride offered a rare chance to experience the rugged, raw side of nature that was at the same time scary and stunning.  But then Ladakh was known for its picture-perfect unique landscapes. I was more interested to know about the people and culture of this land shrouded in myths. And Ladakh Festival provided the perfect opportunity. 

Just before the winter starts to set in and the extreme weather condition isolates the region from the rest of India, the people of Ladakh dress up in their brightest best and put up a grand show for the last lot of tourists. However, Ladakh Festival, unlike other festivals, is not organised by any monastery but is a government initiative to stretch the tourist season and offers glimpses of various local customs and festivals.

When we finally reached Leh, the evening sun had weaved a magical golden mesh over the town that looked decked up in all finery. The streets, lined with shops selling trinkets, books, Buddhist charms, Ladakhi handicrafts, and of course ‘German bakeries’, were teeming with tourists and local people, and all seemed to be already in a festive mode!

But the real show started the next day. The opening-day procession was supposed to be the highlight of the show and it certainly lived up to its reputation. When we made our way through the festooned lanes swarming with locals in traditional elaborate Ladakhi and Tibetan dresses and camera-laden tourists looking for photo-ops, we hardly expected the carnival that awaited us. As we got closer to the main market area, the heady mix of drum beats and robust melodies of various indigenous wind instruments and gongs announced the grandeur of the event. The main road was throbbing with activities and various small groups hailing from far-flung villages of Ladakh were serving a heady cocktail of folk dances, music and street theatre. Apart from pretty girls performing their traditional dances sporting distinctive and colourful costumes and elaborate hairdos, there were masked dancers, dancers dressed as yaks and lions, hugely-built men dancing with open swords, and when it came to celebrations age was certainly not an issue-- wrinkled, old women were matching steps with girls barely in their teens.

 The pageant was headed by the local polo team. Although the performances were well-rehearsed and designed to entertain the tourists, it was difficult to contain the free-spirited Ladakhis within set rules-- dancers would suddenly stop their performance to touch up their lipstick and comb their hair; girls engrossed in gossiping would forget all about the performance and burst out laughing scaring the rest; jesters would leave their acts midway and indulge in some free-style dancing with the foreigners; and what not. Yet there was method in that madness. As the procession approached the polo ground, where the inaugural event was to be held, the cheering reached its peak and so did the antics of the photographers. I even discerned a sombre-looking shutterbug lying on the street hoping to get a good shot of the gorgeous hand-crafted boots of the dancers! At the end came the king and the queen who joined the procession followed by an entire entourage of soldiers, ministers and priests.   

The polo ground was huge and the inaugural function was held at one corner of it. The shamianas were reserved for delegates and foreign tourists and we the ‘natives’ had to huddle together on the ground. Not that I mind sitting on the dust, but this kind of bias did put me off. The mercury outside was rising too. Due to less cloud cover the sun rays in this corner of the country are harsh and sitting under the open sky felt like sitting under a magnifying glass – I was scared I might go up in flames. Although, next day the newspaper headlines didn’t scream of any spontaneous human combustion occurring during the festival, sitting directly exposed to the sun for an hour my linen clothes had turned scalding hot and I could see blisters on my skin. It was then that I realised why the people living in these parts of the world wear such thick clothes even in summer.

After an inaugural speech by one of the most handsome and soft-spoken chief minister of India, Omar Abdullah, the main event started. The groups that were part of the procession staged various dances, dramas and dance dramas based on folklores, religious stories or events from daily life. Some even presented glimpses of various local festivals. I was quite surprised to notice the diversity among the people of Ladakh. Each of these remote isolated villages had their own unique traditions, customs, food habits, and costumes adding layers to the cultural matrix and colour to the otherwise monochromatic palette of Ladakh.

However, the best part of the show was the dance drama performed by school kids. It was a story of people living under extreme weather condition, the trials and tribulations of their daily life. There were children dressed as hunters, farmers and cattlemen; children dressed as yaks, deer, and bulls; and children dressed as children. While the older ones worked hard to put up a truly entertaining show, it was the younger ones who won most hearts by doing what they could do best—look as cute as cupcakes! Life indeed can be so unfair!

The event ended with a dance in which the chief minister not only matched steps with the performers raising security concerns but also invited the tourists and local people to join him. And when such a handsome man invites you for a dance it is a sin to refuse and most people chose to hit the dance floor and rot in hell! Soon, the elegant European lady, the prayer-wheel holding old Ladakhi woman, the matted-hair hippy, the on duty reporter, the ever-smiling monk, the saree-clad mother of two, were dancing together like one big happy family. Indeed festivals bring hearts closer and it was just the 1^st day of the Ladakh Festival!