Indian Update

Our journey so far…with a picture or interesting fact from each location.

We have been in India for over a week and travelled from Chennai on the east coast,

Government Museum Chennai, Theatre
It reminded me of the Albert Hall, London

 From where we went on brief excursions to Kanchipuram 

 

Festival Chariot for parading Shiva and Parvati

and Mahabalipuram,

The Nandi

where we had our first glimpse of the sea (the bay and restaurant where Rick Stein cooked)

before being driven south to the former French settlement of Pondicherry

Interior of Eglise de Notre Dames des Anges, Pondicherry
A piece of France in India

I liked this exhibit in the museum – clearly motorised vehicles were late arriving here, and so a local grandee improvised – this is a pousse-pousse – unlike a conventional rikshaw, this is pushed and the passenger steers

Pousse-Pousse (a "Push-Push")

visited the nearby experimental township, Auroville, almost cult-like (a commune where everything is shared excluding access to the Matri Mindir - a huge gold ball in which there is a meditation chamber). Regrettably, there is talk of a French paedophile ring that was active at Auroville a couople of years ago and almost slave like working conditions for some - clearly, due to humans, heaven on earth is hard to achieve.

Auroville's approach is based on the teachings of “The Mother” (a French lady with an Ashram in Pondicherry – her photograph and that of the guru who inspired her, Sri Aurobindo,

"Mother" and her guru displayed on wall
Paper factory, Pondicherry

are more common in Pondicherry than the pictures of leading politicians elsewhere in the region).

Posters of the Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, Jayalathaa Jayaram
are everywhere She used to be a Bollywood actress

We endured a six hour drive to Trichy, driving through scenic rural villages. The countryside was predominantly rough scrub, like the Bush in Africa, with a goats and a few fields.

A humble village hut

Our hotel in Trichy was dire,

Hotel seating, Trichy

but the Bridhadeeswara temple was stunning, I loved the ancient frescoes

and the Nandi bull (weighing over 20 tonnes and carved from a single rock) was a favourite with all the family.

Our climb up the 400 steps to the Rock Fort Temple was rewarded with a fine view

and we saw our first elephant at the Ranganathswamy Temple,

as well as learning about the 21 gopurams, including the Vellai Gopura (the White Tower, which, according to our guide, commemorates the slaughter of 35,000 priests when the Muslims took the temple in 13^th century

certainly the temple idol lost it eyes due to foreign assault – a French deserter who had apparently converted to the Hindu faith stole it and fled with it to Madras – the diamond, the size of half a hen's egg, is now in Russia and known as the Orlov.

The hotel at Kanchipuram was a blessed oasis after a charmless Indian business hotel (and gosh Chettinad cooking is good).

Wandering the deserted village streets lined with crumbling, deserted mansions was thought provoking – they were built only a couple of decades before I was born.

There was still a picture of King Edward VII on the wall

Feeling refreshed we set off early yesterday to drive to Madurai, arriving in time for lunch. We stayed in what had once been purpose-built quarters, known as “Kochadai” for the managers of a huge steam-powered spinning mill founded by the Harvey brothers from Scotland. Rather like Port Sunlight or New Earswick back in the UK, the Harveys wanted to create a harmonious environment, which supported the working community and weakened caste barriers. Like the Chettinad mansions, life has moved on and their visions have been turned into hotels and tourist attractions.

I enjoyed a solitary visit to the 2,500 year old Meenakshi Amman temple (although most of its structure was built in 17^th century), while my family swam, had massages and tried to logged onto the internet (wifi has been very mixed– apologies for sporadic contact). The lady goddess Meenakshi is the principal deity of the temple, although there is also a sanctum sanctorum for Shiva. The story goes that the Pandyan king and queen were childless but prayed in the forest, raised a Shiva Lingam (which is still in the temple by the Lotus tank)

In honour of Shiva before making votive offerings to plead for a child (Putra Kameshti Yagna). A beautiful little girl with three breasts came out of the holy fire

The king and queen adopted her and a voice from the heavens told them not to be concerned about the extra breast as, when she found her true love and husband, it would vanish. The girl was called Tadaatagai and she was lovely and accomplished (she was trained in all 64 sastras, the fields of science – the Hindus realised that the earth is round and that planets circled the sun long before most civilisations). She learned to be a fine ruler and warrior. To prove herself fit to be crowned she had to wage war in three worlds – she concquered Brahma and Vishnu and then advanced on Shiva. The battle commenced well for her – she defeated Shiva’s army and Nandi the bull, but when she saw Shiva she became all shy and bowed her head in modesty – at that moment her third breast vanished.

Needless to say they were married and lived happily ever after. Her name was changed to Meenakshi when she became a goddess (it means “Fish-eyes” – a description of beauty in these parts).

I returned to the hotel in time for a delicious meal (both for me and the mosquitoes). After a swift swim this morning in a pool that resembled a temple tank, we headed off towards Kerala.

A stunning drive past paddy fields,

Women washing clothes in rivers,

vineyards ,

and mountains.

View from the mountain-side teak forest
to the valley below

I am now in Kerala (a different province) in an area famous for spices and wildlife. I am sure more posts will follow….

What a Pallava

The rampant lions, grinning and growling, most in states if sexual arousal, decorating the outside walls of temples, such as those at the Kanchi Kailasanathar (the oldest structure in Kanchipuram) or being used as ornate pillars, to support structures, are appealing as well as sending a strong message to those who could read the signs. 

Pallava lion at temple in Kanchipuram

The Pallava kings built temples to honour the gods but also reminded their subjects of their authority and influence, by including carvings representing themselves in the decoration. The lion was the symbol of the Pallava kings and can be seen on their coinage as well as their buildings.

Pallava coinage from c 650 AD
the lion and the bull were the symbols of the dynasty

This self-depiction is no stranger than wealthy European donors ensuring that they were included in religious paintings, like Jan van Eyck’s portrait, Madonna of Chancellor Rolin, where Rolin (the then Chancellor of Burgundy) is depicted as being of equal stature to the Madonna, or the self-aggrandisement of Anne Boleyn when she insisted that she had her and Henry VIII’s initials carved into the ceilings of Hampton Court Palace to celebrate their marriage (it probably made some courtiers snicker, as the initials spelled out “HA HA HA”), or the giant statues in ancient Egypt created for Ramesses II on his temples at Abu Simbel where he used huge images of himself as a god to demonstrate his power to the Nubians and other tribes who lived to the south in Africa.

Ramesses II statue at Abu Simnel

Like Ramesses’ huge statues staring south towards his enemies, the lions on the Pallava built temples are a form of branding.

Pallava lion at Mamallapuram
Carved out of a single rock
As were elephant and temples behind it

Most humans desire a sense of belonging – be that as part of a family, a community, a nation or as an employee. Our guide in Chennai was a devout Tamil Hindu. He was very disparaging of “modern” religions – the Hindu religion is recognised by many as the oldest, significant, practicing religion in the world. What was equally impactful was his attitude towards other races as well as creeds – his animosity towards the British for what they had done by taking control of India and exploiting its resources was almost palpable (and yet he did not seem to equate the fact that we had come from London and hence were probable the descendants of the oppressors).

British Army Polo Team, Hyderabad mid 19th century
Army officers and Indian princes

I can understand his anger – I too dislike bullies and those who exploit others. However, his credulous belief in some distortions of history, to support his own bias, was concerning. He was convinced that the reason the British called the original settlement, established by Francis Day, “Madras”, was because of the cruel joy the British took delight taking advantage of a local king. Day acquired a plot of land in August 1639 off Damarla Venkatapathy Nayak, the ruler of the Vandavasi region, on which to build a warehouse and a factory on behalf of the British East India Company. Our guide’s version of the story is that the ruler agreed to part with his land on condition that the British named their settlement in honour of his father, Damarla Chennappa Nayakudu. The British felt that this Indian noble was such an idiot to agree to hand over his valuable territory without any tangible reward that he must be mad. Hence the British named the land “mad ras” (ras being a local word for a ruler) to belittle and humiliate the ruler and his people. THis story does not stand up to inspection, as the deeds for the land transfer on which the fortified town that became Madras were built refers to the fishing Village of Madraspattinam, which pre-dated the British name as well as another area called Chennai, where the French were based, to provide the location. in 1996 the name was changed from Madras to Chennai - the toponomy of the name Chennai is still in dispute.

Water being delivered on the streets of modern Chennai

An even more far fetched explanation for the areas name is that the British established the largest prison and courts of law in India in the town and hence it was the place where Mad rascals, abbreviated to “Mad ras” were locked up. Certainly, the University Campus dedicated solely to Law and the high courts are impressive. However, having a town so full of imprisoned criminals that it was worthy naming it after them seems, to me, to be highly unlikely. 

Madras High Court and Law College 1899

Another explanation is that the Portuguese, who were the first to arrive in the area in 1522, referred to the settlement they established as Madre de Deus. They had built a church, called Madre de Deus, near the natural harbour where they first landed. The preeminent Roman Catholic church in the formerly Portuguese area of Madras has changed significantly since then. It is now Santhome Church, the site of international pilgrimage as "Doubting Thomas", one of only 3 of Christ's named Apostles with a known location for his death and burial, has his shrine in the Basilica beneath the main church. According to tradition, Thomas was killed in 72 AD by Hindus who disliked his conversion of their fellows, although Marco Polo claimed that he was shot by a fowler, with a poor aim, who had been shooting peacocks.

Santhome Church exterior, Chennai

Perhaps I am a Doubting Thomas as I don't agree with our guide's explanation. Personally I believe that the name originates from the pre-existing fishing village and hence pre-dates all colonial arrivals, the Portuguese connection appeals to me, as the proposed explanations are messy, unclear and rouse strong feelings.  We often say “What a Palava” when things are complicated or difficult. This is supposed to originate from the Portuguese word “palavra” meaning discussion or parly. It apparently originates from discussions with West African natives and Portuguese traders, but I wonder if it also describes people’s talks with locals in the lands that once were ruled by the Pallava kings in India.

Goldilocks

So far we have stayed in 3 hotels, the first in Chennai provided shower caps that would not have fitted a doll; in Pondicherry (Pondy), where there are a number of European visitors, especially French and German - the shower cap was enormous (it could have sufficed as a shopping bag at the emporium); and finally, here in Tiruchirappalli (known as Trichy), I have a shower cap that is just the right size for my "golden locks". 

(The hotel is a fairly typical Indian business hotel - not very scenic, this is the meeting area

and the corridors stink of cigarettes, but the shower caps are neither too small, nor too big, they are just right).

All my family are blonde and our golden hair seems to act like a magnet for a number of people here in India. Not just the touts selling postcards, necklaces, SIM cards, carvings and trinkets, each of us has had our photograph taken by complete strangers, sometimes alone and sometimes with them and their family. Travelling on a bus, a large family kept looking at us and smiling and laughing, I wondered at first if the tight line from where I had tried to squeeze into the shower cap was still seared across my forehead, but no... I slowly realised that it was my skin colour and hair. In the end a charming little girl, aged about 10, dressed in a glittering dress, covered in embroidery and gold, and wearing her best jewellery crept down the bus and shyly indicated that she wanted to sit beside me. All the family took photos, I regret that I couldn't manage a selfie at the time. I was charmed.

Today a family asked if they could take a photo of me and then I made it clear that I would like to take a photo in return. Through our guide we had a conversation with them. They had come from a small rural village, near Pondi, and this was the furthest that their daughters had travelled. They were on a pilgrimage to the Ranganathswamy temple, here in Trichy - for Hindus it is as important and similar to a Muslim's Hajj pilgrimage to Mecca, it has to be achieved a least once in a lifetime. The daughters were quite giggly and shy, especially as there were boys in the photo with them, but after we had finished they insisted on formally shaking hands with each of us.

We are peculiar creatures. I know that when I get back to London friends and colleagues will compliment me on the slight tan that I will have gained whilst here in India. Yet, there are people here who are using bleach to try to lighten the colour of their skin. Below is a very Indian joke, shared with me by my friend Bina. I am indebted to Bina for all her help, advice and support before we came out here. How odd that my pale skin and hair colouring make me a curiosity to others and an object worthy of photographing. 

It is strange to think that while on vacation I have become a character in someone else's holiday snaps. I have the memories of their smiles.

Early Arrival

What is is about Indian bureaucracy that results in most things having to be done in triplicate?

• three forms to be completed to gain a visa and entry into the country, 
• three people vetting said documentation and validating that the correct stamp has been placed into passports, before
• three-deep crowds of tired passengers, at 3.30am, waiting for luggage to be unloaded off the plane (probably by only three baggage handlers, given how slow things were to arrive at the carousel).

After a long journey (and a BA in-flight meal of pea and mint salad, followed by cabbage and pea curry - perhaps not the most social choice of menu for a 10 hour flight), we are here - in Chennai - a humid, energetic, vibrant contrast to the grey, grimy and restrained London that we left behind.

Even at 3.40 in the morning, Chennai was busy - heavy traffic - rickshaws and mopeds zipping in between the buses and cars, crowds on the street and waiting at bus stops, street stalls selling snacks and people trying to doze on any flat surface that might be free apparently unaware of the bustle and din around them.

Chennai roads at 4.00 am

Morgan, our driver (who was part of the welcoming team that came to meet us at the airport) drove carefully along the dotted line that I had always presumed was to separate lanes of traffic - he seemed unperturbed by the vehicles that kept cutting him up, blaring their horns and diving in front of him. Like the cows that we passed, placidly sitting on the pavement, Morgan declined to let the stress and chaos get to him.

Content cow on the street in Chennai

First lessons from India:

It would be easy to exclaim "Holy Cow!" in response to the cumbersome bureaucracy and seeming chaos, but the former provides much needed employment and serves a purpose in a nation where attentive service is almost cultural, and the latter is a reflection of a vibrant country that is changing fast and where people are eager to get on and succeed.  The regulations and controls that are apparent on first contact soon become less visible once you begin to slip into the rhythms and customs of a city or country.

I'm off now to enjoy a Sunday brunch - dishes of scented delicacies wait to be opened and explored - a foretaste of the adventures in the days to come...