Quoting from Zerin Anklesaria’s article, she describes the trip to the northern territories, which was prompted by the desire to see the Khajuraho Temples built by the kings of the dynasty that claimed direct descent from the Moon God. The story is predictable. It goes back to a sultry night when a beautiful maiden was bathing in a pool. The King caught her eye and the son born of their union was the first of the Chandela kings, who became an important source of power in the region between the 9th and 13th centuries. It is said that the temples were built in a span of 100 years. However, of the original 85, only 25 remain.
Anklesaria’s party were deeply disappointed to find that English speaking guides were exorbitantly expensive. They therefore chose to take a Hindi speaking guide which they realised, early on in their tour, was a mistake as they were skeptical of the explanations given by the guide for the use of erotic sculptures. According to the guide, “wars were frequent and life expectancy was short, and it was one’s patriotic duty to propagate the species”, which the sculptures were seeking to encourage.
The next day, Anklesaria and her group set out on their own. In her words, “The site, maintained by the Archaeological Survey of India, is a world apart.” They were enchanted by the lush green lawns that stretch on every side, with bushes and trees disposed so as to give shade without obscuring the view of the temples glowing golden in the morning sun. The temples have a long, narrow base with their height roughly equal to the length. The reduced width concentrates the mass and creates almost vertical pilasters separated by deep ridges leading to the top of each sikhara. According to Anklesaria, the beauty of the complex structure lies in the precise proportions of the spires in relation to one another and to the harmony of the whole. She wonders how the nameless architects got their complicated measurements and flowing lines so absolutely right.
“The greatest of these structures, the Kandariya Mahadeva, can be described only in superlatives”, Anklesaria says. The tallest sikhara and the deeps troughs between each spire create a “unique rhythm in stone”, and 84 mini spires are clustered around the big five. There are more than 800 sculpted figures and the basement mouldings in two tiers consist of processions of animals, acrobats, musicians and dancers.
The sound and light show has been beautifully described by Anklesaria. In her own words:
“Before leaving we saw the past recreated at another level in the Sound and Light Show. On a cloudless night bright with stars, the temples stood around us like tall sentinels, shadowy presences silhouetted against the sky. As the music began, the narrator’s voice broke the silence in the persona of the generations of unknown sculptors who lived and died in the making of Khajuraho. The lights moved from one temple to another as the story of the Chandela Kings was recounted, and of the buildings they raised in adoration of their deities.
Chants as old as Hinduism itself, Om Nama Shivaya and the Gayatri Mantra, rose and fell, and at the intersection of this timeless moment the narrator reminded us that our lives on earth are maya, illusion, the stuff of which dreams are made. The backdrop, the music and slokas, and the incomparable voice of Amitabh Bachchan as narrator wove a web of enchantment. Of the many shows I have seen in India and abroad this was the most moving.
In a spectacular finale, seven temples were simultaneously illuminated enclosing us in an arc of light and the chanting rose and fell, building up to a crescendo and fading away. And then, all too soon, it was over. The music died, the temples merged into the shadows, and the spell was broken. But not quite, for the memories remain of those magnificent spires reaching for the stars, and the voices of the singers swelling in unison, supplicating the gods of Khajuraho for Shanti, Shanti, the ineffable peace that passes all understanding.”
