Here's a temple, there's a temple...

When the British came to India, they wanted to catalog ALL of the temples in this vast country. I don’t know how they ever thought they could accomplish it (and I don’t know if they really did), but my teacher has books showing the result of their labors, with descriptions and black and white photos of temples all over. I wonder how they defined a temple. I’ve seen such wildly different temples, from the really huge and to the very tiny. Did they count shrines? What’s the difference between a temple and a shrine? Does someone have to be able to fit inside? What if there’s no outer wall, just an abode for the deity that you stand before? What’s if it’s just a place under a tree where someone leaves an offering and says a prayer every morning? Even if you did get all the temples, you’d still be left with the myriad altars in every home, business, bus and rickshaw.

Anyway, here’s a synopsis (it’s not short, but it’s still a summary) of a few of my favorite temples so far (aside from Chidambaram).

Aranmula (in Kerala)
On the corner of my street in Aranmula was Mahaganapathy temple, a tiny, sweet little temple to Ganesh. There was a small courtyard (with a giant tree just outside the wall—it was the best corner in the village) and you could see the entire temple even from outside. It was open on the sides, with black marble leading to the statue of Ganesh. In the evenings, the temple was ablaze with burning pots of ghee and the aroma of incense wafted through the air. Sometimes there would be groups of children singing and playing music. This temple was simple and cozy and personal, and I smiled every time I walked by it.

From that corner, with the Ganesh temple, you could see the main temple of Aranmula: Parthasarathy. Partha is another name for Arjuna, the star of the Bhagavad Gita, and Sarathy means driver or charioteer. Arjuna’s charioteer in the story is none other than the god Krishna himself. Jannet, one of my housemates, arranged with her wood carving teacher to take us on a visit to the temple. I hadn’t expected to see inside it: I’d been told non-Hindus were not allowed. Charjee told us they created that rule because people had gotten so tired of visitors snapping pictures. As he said, “we come here for our peace of mind. We all need peace of mind.” But as long as we behaved and didn’t take pictures, we were welcome to visit and even to come back on our own. When men visit the inner sanctum of the temple, they have to remove their shirts or at least the right side (if it’s button-down). Men receive energy from the god at their sternum/heart, hence the need to uncover it. Fortunately, women receive it at their forehead. With the stereotype of men as rational and women as emotional, I wondered if that’s meant to balance us out—or if we have things backwards ;) Charjee also talked about how visiting the temple is good for us physically; you get some exercise climbing the stairs and walking around (it’s big). There’s even a part where you walk (barefoot, of course) over small, smooth stones: a quick, free acupressure treatment!

Trichy (in Tamil Nadu)

The Rock Fort Temple is 83meters high, built on a giant rocky outcropping smack in the middle of the city. There are 437 steps to get to the top. At the very top is the Vinayaka Temple to Ganesh. Somehow my fear of heights didn’t bother me a bit! I took some great pictures of the surrounding city; this is one of the few temples that allows photography in certain parts, if you pay for a pass. I didn’t end up really taking any inside; it still didn’t feel right.

Half way up is the Sri Thayumanaswamy Temple. I was standing at the sign, written mostly in Tamil, trying to decipher which way to go. The man watching over the entrance asked if I was Hindu. No, I replied honestly. He sized me up. Then he took me to left, past the “Hindu only signs”, into the temple, dotted my forehead, and sent me on my way with only the warning “no camera.” The temple was beautiful, with many pictures about Shiva taking the form of a midwife to help a pregnant woman. There was also a darling priest who ushered me into a tiny shrine to Lakshmi. It was the first real blessing I got at a temple in India, and he sent me away with flowers and bananas.

Back down at the bottom of the steps carved into the stone, on my way out, I could hear bells ringing. It was the temple elephant! It was doing a meditative dance, stepping from one side to the other and then gracefully kicking one leg forward. It was also pausing every so often to take offerings. I watched as the elephant took some from a woman (looked like sugarcane?), eat it, and then touch her forehead with its trunk! The elephant was giving blessings! I took a look at the bananas in my hand and trotted over to make my offering. I’m not sure how I feel about an elephant spending its day cooped up in a temple dancing, but I have to admit that it looked peaceful and getting a kiss on the head from an elephant is very cool!
I then hopped a bus to Sri Ranganathaswamy, dedicated to Vishnu. It’s huge, about 60 hectares. I was considering hiring a guide (I was told they’d be everywhere), if I could haggle a good price. But I didn’t get approached! I saw plenty of other Westerners inside (more than I’d seen anywhere else up until then in India), and they all had guides. But it worked out: I was on my way into a shrine and got stopped by someone watching the entrance. But another guy, one inside a booth, stopped him and, apparently, told him to let me in. Once I got inside, there were “Hindu only” signs. I’m learning how far one can get by really dressing appropriately, not traveling in a giant group, not carrying a backpack or a (visible) camera, and generally being polite and respectful. I can actually feel how peoples’ reactions change when I stop in front of a shrine and pause quietly, instead of just wandering around gawking and looking dazed, like I’m at a museum.

Kumbakonam (in Tamil Nadu)

I’ve spent the last two days in Kumbakanom, and if I weren’t meeting my teacher in Madurai tomorrow night, I’d probably be spending a few more here. I wasn’t so sure I liked it when I first arrived and was walking from the bus station to the hotel where I wanted to stay. Yet another lesson in holding the reactions, waiting a few minutes, and then seeing what action you want to take. I went from not really liking it to staying here an extra night. I’m told there are at least 18 temples here. In two days, I have visited eight of them. I’ve been to two big Vishnu temples and two big Shiva temples. One of each of them had the inner shrine carved to look like a chariot, complete with giant stone wheels attached. I’ve also been to four smaller temples, one each for Draupadi, Kali, Anjaneya, and Ganesh.

Draupadi is the wife of the Pandavas, the five brothers who star in the Bhagavad Gita. There’s a great story about how she ended up the wife of five brothers, but I’m too tired to tell it (this post is out of control in length). The temple is tiny and sweet. I stumbled upon it last night and was invited to come back this morning, so I did. Everyone I met there was so friendly, particularly my new friend Kavitha, who, after I’d been sitting next to her on the floor for a while, gestured at my clothing and opened conversation with, “Sari… super! Super!”

Kali is the goddess of desctruction and the name of one of our cats. Our family had finally agreed on a name for our kitten and then the spelling changed. Since we all liked the name (and had a hard time agreeing on one), I didn’t mention the coincidence. A few days later one of my brother’s friends recognized it (maybe from a class on Hinduism) and looked it up to check. Before I knew what he was doing, he related the news to my family over dinner, but by then the name was set!

Anjaneya is the mother of Hanuman, the monkey god. Another small, sweet temple, with a priest outside twisting strips of palm fronds into elaborate origami-esque garlands and decorating the eves. There is a yoga pose called Hanumanasana: it’s the splits (remind to tell that story sometime as well, it’s another good one). There is also a pose named for Anjaneya, his mother. It’s a deep lunge that helps prepare for Hanumanasana.

The Ganesh temple was small, just one room, but it was at the top of some steeps stairs and in the middle of a busy, busy intersection! Like a traffic island! Harvard-folks who may be reading this, it reminded me of nothing more than the Lampoon castle.

Oh, and before any of you can start clamoring, let me just say that there won’t be many temple pictures. Photography is very strictly forbidden, and I can understand why. It would definitely change the feeling of the temples, which all have a certain calm, quiet stillness to them – even when the dummer gets going during a puja. And, as much as I’d love to share them with you all, I enjoy just being present at the temples and not trying to capture every little detail of their magnificence.

Tamil Nadu is known for its magnificent temples, and I can understand why. But I'm thinking that after Madurai, I may take a break from the temple-hopping. Not because I'm tired of them, but because they are so magnificent and I'm afraid that if I just run from one to another they will all start to blur together and I won't appreciate them as much. But we'll see. If there's one thing my plans do, it's change.