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Dom Raja : Keeper of the Flame

Sanjit the Yamraj of Varanasi. He is the undertaker at the cremation ghats and keeper of the sacred fires. He is called the Dom Raja but he calls himself a Yamraj of this world. Varanasi (sanjay austa sanjayausta@gmail.)

Sanjit the Yamraj of Varanasi.

 

(Published first in the Bangkok Post. April 2015)

Rising from the shores of the Ganga, a long narrow, almost vertical pan-stained stone steps   take you up  to the residence of  the most famous undertaker  this side of the Atlantic.  He is the lord of the Varanasi’s famed cremation ghats. His name is Sanjit but he is known by his   honorific Dom Raja.

You are prepared to meet a billionaire because legends, (perpetuated mostly by journalists)  have it  that Dom Rajas make it big burning the dead and have luxury villas and cars across India. But  at the head of the steps you stare only at a large hovel.

Deep in its bowels sits a short swarthy man presiding over half a dozen children, all idling shirtless in the morning sun.

The man is almost half burnt. His bare chest is charred white and his left hand burnt  so badly that it’s twisted upon itself at the wrist.

“I am looking for Dom Raja”, I falter.

“I am he”, he says blankly, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his crippled hand.

 (sanjay austa sanjayausta@gmail.)

Dom Raja in his ‘Palace’, Varanasi

What a sad paradox you  think, for a man in charge of burning the dead to roast himself alive like that at the job.

“Oh this”,  he says, reading your thoughts and pointing to his chest and hand. “ This is because of a cylinder blast at a wedding  six years ago”,

There in the sun with his scars and with no vestiges of his rumored riches, he looks  decrepit and pitiful.

It’s a big climb-down from the days of Kallu ;his ancestor and the first Dom Raja  who according to Indian mythology had kept  the vow-abiding King Harishchandra as an apprentice .

Sanjit, may not have inherited Kallu’s pelf but he has inherited his indelible cast mark. The undertakers are lowest in India’s  pecking order.  They are untouchables to be kept at a safe distance.

“In the bazaar if I have to drink water I cannot touch the glass. They pour it down to me. The locals don’t allow me in their homes nor come to my place”, he says. To top it all, he is not allowed into the holy  temples in Varanasi including the most sacred , Vishwanath temple.

 (sanjay austa sanjayausta@gmail.)

The Doms pray to Kallu Dom before starting work every day, Varanasi.

Ironically, however,  the Dom Rajas are keepers of the sacred flame revered by all Hindus. No matchstick is used at the ghats. Everyone must use the sacred fire that has been burning for centuries in Dom Raja’s  hearth. The fire and the burning at the Varanasi’s ghats, as the Hindu belief goes, liberates one  from the everlasting cycle of life and death.

Dom Raja is the leader of a two-tier hierarchy of Doms- all of whom are given duties as per the  roster.  The Dom Raja not only presides over any disputes at the ghats but he gets the maximum number of duties.

Its not an easy job, Sanjit reminds you.  The stench of bodies , some of whom having been  kept in mortuaries for days and opened up for postmortems,  is unbearable.  To drown out the putrid odor,  Sanjit drinks copious amounts of local whisky.  He claims to drink over eight bottles ( each 250mls) every day.

“I’ve already had two since morning. All  Doms need to drink. The job is such. There is so much smell. What to do?”, he says.

The two burning ghats at Varanasi,  the Raja Harishchandra  Ghat and the holier Manikarnika Ghat swarm with Doms. They begin their funeral duties by offering a prayer to  Kallu Dom. The Doms build up the funeral pyre methodically.  To make sure the body keeps burning, they poke it with long poles from time to time.

The poor cannot afford to buy enough wood and their dead often remain half burnt. But nothing goes to waste at the ghats. The feral dogs exhume up the leftovers.

 (sanjay austa sanjayausta@gmail.)

Cremations at Manakarnika Ghats, Varanasi

The ashes are  cast   unceremoniously into the Ganges where another set of Doms neck -deep in the charcoal black water sift for any  valuables that can’t be taken off the dead- like good teeth or firmly embossed rings.

Sanjit is a  far cry from the days when Doms held complete sway of the ghats. Some years ago, there were protests  against the Doms who were accused of extortion. As a result the Doms today can only charge for the sacred fire and cannot pester the pilgrims for  extra donations.

Sanjit reminisces about the days when his brother the then Dom Raja- Rajit held complete authority in the cremation grounds. He leads you inside to a room where arranged against the walls are crude body building equipments. The Doms were known for their physical prowess and every Naag Panchami (snake worship festival) they make a public show of it, lifting impossibly heavy stone wheels and doing various acrobatics.

“We get strength from Hanuman  (the Hindu monkey God)”,  he says. But suddenly conscious of his fragile half-burnt frame he says,” I could lift up these weights before this happened”.

Sanjit has no children so  he is training his  five year old nephew to become the next Dom. Lifting and swinging heavy weights is  where the training begins. For now the tiny Dom-in-waiting goes to school like every other child in Varanasi.

 (sanjay austa sanjayausta@gmail.)

The ashes being sifted for any valuables in the Ganga, Varanasi

 

 (sanjay austa sanjayausta@gmail.)

Five year old Dom-in-waiting, Varanasi

Lake Manyara National Park. Loveliest in Africa

 

Its not just the mother that looks after the baby elephant.. Other female elephants in the herd are care for him and gives him a loving nudge of their trunk in the right direction. The baby elephant needs the help of not just the mother but the others in the herd to be able to survive in the wild. It is only four percent of the adult female elephants weight and only two percent of the weight of an adult male elephant. This baby in the picture look just a few weeks old. (sanjay austa austa)

The calf was barely a few weeks old, Lake Manyara National Park.

 

(The story first appeared in Mail Today, March 2015) 

It is a long undulating road that leads you to the place Earnest Hemingway called the, “loveliest I had seen in Africa”.  Lake Manyara National Park, Tanzania where the pugnacious writer camped in the 1930’s, is however, today one of the most underrated parks on the African safari circuit.

Hemingway had of course come to shoot big game and not the one to conceal his unbridled machismo; he posed proudly with his trophies- dead lions, rhinos, cape buffaloes, kudus and much else.

Thankfully the only shooting allowed today in Manyara is through the camera.  And despite the variety of wildlife available for ‘shooting’ and viewing, Lake Manyara lives under the shadow of its much popular neighbors; Serengeti and Ngorongoro. 

The Safari companies don’t hide the fact that Lake Manyara is just an add-on feature in the Tanzanian safari package. Something to warm you up for the famous parks.

The African Savanna are full of small pools like these where hippos and crocodiles live, and eat and fight. (sanjay austa austa)

The Hippos in the Simba River, Lake Manyara National Park

It was with this level of low expectations that we entered the park and within a few minutes drive, we were pleasantly surprised. Without the burden of spotting the big cats, as one always is, especially in the Indian National Parks, we were relaxed and sat back to enjoy Manyara’s bounties.   Manyara has its lions of course and they are a peculiar set of lions too. The felines here are famous for climbing trees. But their sighting is as rare as of tigers in India but thankfully the safari drivers do not go on a mad chase locating them. Everyone knows the lions would be found   by the dozens in Serengeti, so one takes in leisurely what is on display in Manyara.

In this unhurried observation it is not hard to see Hemingway’s fascination for this overlooked African corner. It is one of the few parks in the world where the lake occupies more surface area than land. The park has an area of  330 square kilometers and the lake occupies 220 square km of it. This large lake attracts over 400 species of birds most notably the pink flamingoes.

The safari jeeps  keep a healthy distance from the lake and from far the flamingos appear as glistening pink dots.    There is a spot, however, at river Simba- one of the three rivers that feed the lake- where one is allowed to get off and get an up-close glimpse of the most dangerous  African animal ; the hippopotamus. They never fail to remind you that more people are killed by hippos than by any other animal in Africa.

Marabou stork takes off, Lake Manyara, Africa, jan-2010. Marabou is one of the largest flying birds. Expect perhaps for the Andean Condor it has the largest wing span. It is called a wading bird for wading in shallows and fishing for toads and fish. But it is also a scavenger and in the Savanna it dominates the vultures over a kill. It likes to wander around human settlements around the park. I found them sneaking around at our camping site on more than one occasion. (sanjay austa austa)

Marabou stork takes off, Lake Manyara, Africa.

For a long time, the hippos remained immersed in the waters with only their   backs showing. From where we stood, their arched backs looked like smooth polished stones in the mid day sun. But soon they emerged breathing heavily and wobbled clumsily towards one another, opening their cavernous mouths in mock attack or display of dominance.

The second most dangerous African animal the cape buffalo made its appearance in pairs of two rather than the marauding herds its usually found in. Ever vigilant for predators, while one bull sat chewing cud, the other  stood guard.

Lake Manyara also has the best sighting of the African elephants in East Africa. The elephants forage in the thick forests that fringe the park. It was  the calving season and we watched the pachyderms chaperone their calves, no older than two weeks,  to a waterhole.

Safari jeeps across Africa have a pop-up roof from under whose safety one can peep at the wild. But our Toyota Land Cruiser  was open to the sky.  What had seemed a concern at first, because its not uncommon for cheetahs to jump on jeep roofs to survey the Savannas, proved a boon as the open-roof accorded us the best views of the monkeys and birds in high branches. Manyara  is rich in different types of trees providing  favorable ecosystem for arboreal creatures to thrive   including a variety of monkey and bird species, most notably the rare blue monkey and the silver cheeked hornbill.

The Baboons love to groom each other and bond. But they are just as aggressive. It takes a small morsel crossing of each other personal space to have flare ups among the baboons. The baboons have deadly fangs and are known to chase even leopards if they dare come too close. (sanjay austa austa)

Grooming Baboons, Lake Manyara

The vervet  monkey is endangered but not a rare sight in Manyara.  Its  shifty anxious eyes makes it stand out from other monkey species. Its bigger cousin the baboon however is a picture of quite confidence. Its the only monkey with a snout.  A tribe sat in the middle of the safari track smugly picking lice off each other. Few strutted fast our jeep, not for a moment breaking their stride. And why not? Baboons have been known to stare down fiercer animals. They chase away leopards and when sufficiently numbered, can intimidate    lions and hyenas.

But from over the Rift Valley escarpment that rings Manyara,  one can see only the dark and light greens of the forests below and the glistening lake.

Framed with the hills in the backdrop and the open plains in the foreground the tall lanky giraffe's indeed look very majestic as they walk across the savanna. (sanjay austa austa)

The Masai Giraffes, Lake Manyara

Zebra watching at Lake Manyara. Overcrowding at the national parks is a big issue in Africa. (sanjay austa austa)

Tourists at Lake Manyara National Park, Tanzania, Africa

Free Speech Should Have a Wild Run

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Patriotism; often the first refuge of a scoundrel 

Following is  a talk on Free Speech I gave at Kamla Nehru College, Feb 2016

(Published first in DailyO)

Sadly there is nothing original, I can say about free expression which has not already been said before more eloquently and knowledgeably by others. But to paraphrase Arundhati Roy, from her essay End of Imagination;  one should be prepared to grovel, to humiliate oneself abjectly, because in the circumstances, silence would be indefensible. So we should speak out our second hand lines in this sad second hand play but lets not forget that the stakes we’re playing for are huge. Our fatigue and our shame could mean the end of us.

Roy was of course talking about the Nuclear Bombs but I assure you, the stakes for free speech are much much bigger than that.

Let me take you back in time. I think nothing more outrageous, blasphemous or more ’seditious’ if you will , has ever be said than what Charles Darwin declared in this book The Origin of Species. That we humans- share our ancestry with the apes was such a shocking thing to suggest, that many of us, so many years later, still have trouble reconciling with the idea.

But if we were to do a simple DNA test of a human and a chimpanzee, it would reveal that our DNA is 98.4 percent alike. What’s more, in terms of the DNA, the chimpanzee is more closer to us than it is to the gorilla or the baboon. But somehow we find it easier to believe, without any shred of evidence, that there were aeroplanes, nuclear bombs and plastic surgery in Vedic times.

Three centuries before Darwin, Galileo backed the Copernicus theory that it was the earth that revolved around the sun than the other way around, causing major consternation.

What these two men were saying back then, was far more offensive than what is there in the Satanic Verses , in M.F Hussain’s paintings, in Charlie Hebdo cartoons or in the so called anti-India slogans that were allegedly shouted in JNU last week. These two men were calling into question the very fundamental notions of man’s ideas about himself and his place in the world. They were striking at the very core of human ego.

In an era, where you turned to religion for all answers and where thinkers like Aristotle, who dominated the intellectual space for over a millennium, promoting geocentricism and the view that the sole purpose of other animals was to serve man, the theories of Darwin and Galileo were indeed astounding.

But for the first time in the human history these two men backed by scientific evidence, suggested that man had no exalted place on earth any more than the rat, the mosquito, the penguin or the donkey . That we snapped into being not in six quick days but are a result of millions of years of evolution from the time when we were single-cellular primitive creatures that multiplied in the chemical stew almost 3.5 billion years ago.

They showed that not only did our kind not have any special place in the scheme of things but that even our planet was pretty ordinary and that it was but a ‘’mote of dust suspended on a sunbeam’’, as astronomer Carl Sagan famously put it.

The findings of both Darwin and Galileo pitted them directly against the Church and they were quickly denounced as heretical. They were both robbed of their freedom to propagate their views more openly. Today we know how much they both have contributed to the advancement of science and by extension our understanding of ourselves.

Free speech has never had free run. There has always been and perhaps will always be an effort to muzzle, whip and reign it into submission. I guess its in our cavemanish nature to settle with the status quo and resist the new.

I came here prepared to talk about how free speech should be unfettered and without any limits. But as you have seen in the recent events in JNU, free speech has its hazards. An insecure and non-performing government is always wary of any dissent.

I believe that supporting free speech with boundaries is like trying to   mark out a territory for the sea waves in the sand. The waves have their own cadence and rhythm. They have their moods and they swing with the tides. King Canute learnt this a long time ago. I wonder if our politicians ever will.

There is no place more fitting than the educational institutions where free speech should have a wild run. Because we come to educational institutions not only to learn but also to unlearn and slough off the skin of indoctrination which we are trussed into right at our birth. We come to educational institutions not only to find answers but to fill us with questions. We come to educational institutions not only to listen but also to debate and dissent.

There is nothing wrong in saying Pakistan Zindabad or India Zindabad or Japan Zindabad. What we should we be worried about is cultivating hate weather its for India, or Pakistan or anyone else. If indeed there was hate speech at JNU there should be a deepening of dialogue not suppression.

You don’t’ become an anti-national by shouting a few slogans anymore than you become a patriot by disrupting Gulam Ali’s concerts or digging cricket pitches.  Giving tickets to people with criminal backgrounds is anti-national, failing to deliver on election promises is anti- national, evading paying your taxes is anti-national, demanding a bribe is anti-national, sending in the police to an educational institution to arrest students is anti-national.

What is a nation? By itself it’s just a notion, an abstraction, a myth just like the idea of God. And like all myths the myth of a nation was created to organize people. Unfortunately the idea of God and nation leads to such chauvinism that human history is full of bloodshed on their account. Therefore when an abstraction is exalted at the expense  individuals, we should be really worried.

You must have read recently about scientists finally discovering the existence of gravitational waves. It was one of the most remarkable scientific achievements of our times. New discoveries and new horizons lie waiting for us if we allow free thoughts to flourish, no matter how uncomfortable. Who knows how many Darwins and Galileos are out there amongst us waiting to come up with something that will shatter our cozy faith in the things we hold dear. Are we ready to welcome them or are we plain scared?

Paul Theroux. Under  Sir Vidia’s Shadow Still

 

Travel Writer and author Paul Theroux at the Jaipur Literature Festival 2015. (sanjay austa sanjayausta@gmail.)

Travel Writer and author Paul Theroux at the Jaipur Literature Festival 2015.

(Published first in the Bangkok Post, Feb 2015)

“ Take it on the chin and move on”, Nobel Laureate V. S. Naipaul curtly told writer and friend Paul Theroux when the latter confronted him on ignoring his letters, bringing their over three decades of friendship to an end over 17 years ago. But on the stage at  the Jaipur Literature Festival 2015, it was the aging wheelchair bound Naipaul, who forgave his former protégé- and reconciled with him publicly for the first time.

Naipaul was dealt not only on the chin but had been administered many a searing body blows  by Theroux , most  of them well below the belt, with Theroux’s  intimate account of their friendship in his memoir, Sir Vidia’s Shadow,  in which  Naipaul came out shining like a bad penny.

But then  Theroux had only been listening to his literary mentor who once wrote to him, “You must give me the pleasure of seeing what I look like. It would be like hearing one’s voice, seeing oneself walk down the street. You must feel free.”

Theroux felt free and more and portrayed Naipaul as a freeloading, children- hating man with an inflated ego and a contempt for just about everyone and everything.

“Vidia was the neediest person I have ever known. He fretted incessantly, couldn’t cook, never cleaned, wouldn’t drive, demanded help, had to be the center of attention”, Theroux wrote.

The unkindest cut was Theroux using the poetic license to suggest that a  little girl Naipaul once dismissed in East Africa as ,” What a horrible child”,  had grown up to become Nadira, Naipaul’s wife.

Paul Theroux at the Jaipur Literature Festival taking a snapshot with his phone. (sanjay austa sanjayausta@gmail.)

Paul Theroux  with his wife, Jaipur Literature Festival.

The book, Theroux’s parting shot,  was seen as the final  nail  in the coffin.

It was just as well that their first public rendezvous happened at  the Jaipur Literature Festival, a literary carnival- the biggest in Asia-   marked each year by one defining incident or the other, none of them having anything to do with literature.

The  2012  festival was overshadowed by  virulent protests against Salman Rushdie’s invitation as speaker.  Rushdie never came but as a mark of solidarity, four  writers read passages from his controversial book  Satanic Verses . But soon after they fled Jaipur fearing arrest.

In 2013,   it was Indian sociologist Ashis Nandi’s  off- the- cuff remark  that low-castes in India are the most corrupt, that had politicians and social workers baying for his blood. Nandi was eventually dragged to court.

And the endearing image of the 2015 festival will be  the public coming together of friends -turned -foes after Theroux  sang  paeans to Naipaul’s seminal book, ‘The House for Mr. Biswas’ calling it, “ the most complete novel I have ever read since Dickens”.

Naipaul was wheeled to the stage and got a standing ovation after which he shook Theroux’s hand.

An overwhelmed Naipaul who Theroux once wrote  “, cries too easily”, took the mike but after mustering a ‘thank you’ was overtaken completely by emotion and tears. Lady Naipaul, quick to the rescue, said, “ I think my husband is overwhelmed with your reception and the wonderful  things said about his book”.  Lady Naipaul was  seen on more than one occasion,  dabbing the 82- year old writer’s eyes with handkerchief with Theroux looking on.

Lady Naipaul wipes Naipaul's tears after his talk at the Jaipur Literature Festival, Jaipur. (sanjay austa sanjayausta@gmail.)

Lady Naipaul wipes Naipaul’s tears after his talk at the Jaipur Literature Festival, Jaipur.

Even after decades of association, the  falling out and the reconciliation, Theroux himself pushing 73, with dozens of fiction and non-fiction books behind him,  still seemed to be under Naipaul’s shadow.  Theroux, who had come with his Chinese wife and his son  Marcel Theroux- also a writer- was seen shadowing Naipaul everywhere and proudly posing with him for  photographs.

Theroux said that he is also writing a book on the American South, following very much in Naipaul’s footsteps who wrote , ‘A Turn in the South’ -a book on Naipaul’s  travels in what was then  racially segregated  America.

“ My book in progress is on the American South”, he said revealing  little except that he was fascinated that all the motels in South of America were owned by  the Indian Patels.

Theroux also quoted Naipaul when asked for that one  writing tip, “ Truth is Prophetic. Tell the truth. You may see it as awkward but write it down “, he said.

The Jaipur Literature Festival was also an ironic backdrop to their coming together  as both of them have publicly declared their disapproval of all literary festivals. Naipaul hated them and had once told Theroux,“ The writer should never precede the work. The writer should remain invisible”.  Theroux went further and called literary events ‘’dog shows’’.

Theroux  wrote about a literary festival in Europe but he could well be describing the Jaipur Literature  Festival ,  “ Books were the things but there were no books in sight, only goggling faces in the sold-out tents and the sense of scrutiny, all those faces like light bulbs”.

 

 

Bhimbetka Rock Shelters. India’s Oldest Art Gallery

 (sanjay austa austa)

Bhimbetka Rock Paintings

 

(Published first in Mumbai Mirror, Feb 2015)

 

Humans have been hunters and gatherers for more than 99 percent of our  evolutionary history.  Our adoption of agriculture and the concomitant ‘civilization’ began barely 10,000 years ago. Therefore historian’s obsession with this tiny sliver of our past, often at the expense of over 7 million years of cave dwelling , is truly astounding.

What is more remarkable is the view now increasingly held by  many important biologists is that with better diet, no diseases, and more leisure time, we were probably more successful as hunters and gatherers. Biologist Jared Diamond author of ‘The Third Chimpanzee’ famously  called our adoption of agriculture as, “the worst mistake in the history of human race”.

 Our trajectory from stone-age to science, the view goes,  has not necessarily been a boon.  With our   sophisticated weapons, our exploding  populations and our environmental destruction, we could  spell the doom soon for ourselves and the estimated 8.7 million species we  share this planet with.

The visit to Bhimbetka Rock Shelters  is therefore a humbling tryst with the history. It is here where humans lived as hunters and gatherers stretching from the Paleolithic period (over 40,000) years ago to Medieval times- the longest habitation of humans on the Indian Sub-continent.

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Humans have been fighting with each other for millions of years as this painting reveals. Bhimbetka

But Bhimbetka Rock Shelters perhaps best exemplifies our unwillingness to engage with this large chunk of our past. It’s a past we are happy to have emerged from and today in common parlance cavemen or Neanderthals are words used only pejoratively.

Therefore it  did not come as a surprise  when on both  my visits -set apart by a few years- to these remarkable caves in central Madhya Pradesh, I was the only visitor in the morning. The caves officially open  to  public at  6 am but both times I had to go looking for the gatekeeper first. Not that there is a problem getting in. One can walk right past the barricade without any hindrance and vandalize if one wished, the prehistoric  paintings  preserved on these rocks over millennia.

On both visits the gatekeeper had to be summoned and they showed  surprise and irritation at  having to come to give a ticket to someone so early in the morning.

There are no pesky guides here and though these art galleries are barricaded , the rock shelters are themselves not fenced in. They remain open to the jungle that surrounds them.

Bhimbetka has over 750 caves with only 15 or so open to visitors. Etched on the walls of these caves are paintings , most of them depicting  simple sketches of animals both domestic and wild, including bison, tiger, rhinoceros, elephant, wild bore, monkey, antelope and peacock. There is the  depiction of hunting scenes and battle. The more recent paintings depict dance  resembling the dance formations of the Gond tribes that inhabit the region today.

 (sanjay austa austa)

Painting of a wild bore chasing a terrified human, Bhimbetka

Because Bhimbetka saw a wide swathe of  human habitation it has layers upon layers of human history.

The oldest painting here goes back  to over 30,000 years ago making it the oldest art gallery in India. However UNESCO deigned to grant Bhimbetka  a World Heritage Site status as late as  2003 , decades after bestowing the honor on monuments it thought more  important.

But then it was only in 1957 when Indian archeologist V.S. Wakankar discovered these caves. Until then , perhaps because of their close proximity to the Sanchi Stupa and other Buddhist monasteries- they existed in archeological records only as Buddhist sites.  Until then we thought that the oldest record of human existence in the Indian sub-continent hark back to the Indus Valley Civilization.

The name Bhimbetka came  from  the Hindu epic Mahabharata. The Pandav, Bhim , the legend goes , had rested here on his travels.

Bhimbetka Rocks Shelters  are a sandy outcrops, jutting out from the foothills of the Vidhyanchal hills in Raisen District of Madhya Pradesh, 46 kilometers from modern Bhopal.  They lie hidden deep in a forest, one reason for their late discovery and their preservation. It is easy to see why our ancestors chose to inhabit them. Concealed in the forests with vaulted wide tunnels, deep enclaves , the shelters provided excellent protection from the wild animals , the weather and other marauding tribes.

 (sanjay austa austa)

Hunting Scenes at Bhimbetka, MP

All pre-historic paintings including the ones at Bhimbetka invalidate the view that we always had it rough as cavemen and that leisure time; a prerequisite of art , came with agriculture.  In fact the paintings are testimony to the fact that cavemen had a lot of leisure time. Archeologists believe that the earliest art-work  would have been in wood, clay and other perishables that did not survive for our scrutiny.

A mixture of vegetable dyes, animal fat, manganese, coat and red stone was used for the Bhimbetka paintings.  The paintings themselves are simple etchings on the walls but they reveal an intimate relationship humans had with their environment.

How to get there

 

Bhimbetka is 45kms from Bhopal. One can hire  a taxi from Bhopal. Bhopal is well connected both by air and rail to all major cities in India including Mumbai.

Where to Stay

Bhopal is the nearest big town where one can stay. Bhopal has accommodations for all budgets.

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Bhimbetka Rock Shelters, MP

Sanchi Stupa, Madhya Pradesh

Sachi Stupa in Madhya Pradesh (sanjay austa austa)

Sachi Stupa in Madhya Pradesh

 

Bhopal may not have any significant archeological monuments of its own. Its grandest  monument the Taj-ul-Masajid mosque -the largest in India- is a comparative newbie in the archeological time scale, completed as it was as late as 1985.

But Bhopal provides a perfect base to plan  day- trips to some the most ancient archeological sites in India,  all of whom  lie  within the  radius of 60 kilometers.

 Bhimbetka caves to its south, has rock paintings harking back the Stone Age when our ancestors lived in these rock shelters as  hunters and gatherers.  To Bhopal’s  east lies the incomplete Bhojeshvar  temple, which has one of the largest Shiva Lingas in the world ( in tourist brochures its tom-tommed  as the largest –but the largest is in Kotilingeshwara in Karnataka ).

 57 kilometers from Bhopal are located  the Udaygiri Caves-one of the oldest Hindu and Jain rock-cut shelters.  To its south and 46 kilometers from Bhopal is the oldest stone structure in India – the Sanchi Stupa.

Sachi Stupa in Madhya Pradesh (sanjay austa austa)

Sachi Stupa in Madhya Pradesh

From Stone Age  to Buddhist and Hindu past,  this region cuts a wide swath of history. However this entire area had until not too far been  associated only with Buddhism. The grand Stupa, the Buddhist  temples and monasteries at Sanchi attracted Buddhist pilgrims and scholars from all over India and abroad. Even Bhimbetka caves until discovered and dated by the peripatetic Indian archeologist V. S. Wakaner was thought to be  Buddhist extensions of the Stupas at Sanchi.

The Buddhist monuments at Sanchi are perched atop a rolling hill. A wide motorable road winds up  right to the top. There are three Stupas here but the largest- – Stupa no 1 is usually the only Stupa that gets any attention by visitors. It sits prominent on the hill and its stone dome and spire are  visible from the  train as you ride into Bhopal.

The stone exterior was however a later addition added on by the Sunga dynasty. The wooden interior encased by the stone and commissioned by  Emperor Ashoka in 3rd century BCE, remain hidden from view. In its interior lie the relics of Gautama Buddha.  But it was on the bases of its four toranas or gateways , facing in all four directions,  that Sanchi Stupa was declared a  UNESCO world heritage site. There are over 85 Stupas in the world but Stupa no I at Sanchi is the only Stupa with such elaborately carves toranas.

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Buddhist Monk at a Buddhist Temple at Sanchi, India.

 

With the decline of Buddhism in India the monuments at Sanchi had fallen into neglect and the four toranas had over time all fallen down. They were re-erected much later.

The carvings on the toranas depict the life of Gautam Buddha not only from the time of his birth but also his previous incarnations. These stories taken from  Jataka are rich in metaphor and lavishly carved on the massive toranas. Buddha is himself not represented in human form but symbolically by his sandals, the lotus, the canopy or the bodhi tree.

Large chunks of the  toranas  with many Jataka  stories  were lost to vandals and time. The  missing pieces were replaced by plain slabs.

A large Ashokan pillar was also erected near one of the gateways. It was also  vandalized and today only its stump remains . The rest of the pillar is kept on display on the ground.

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Bhimbetka Cave Paintings, Madhya Pradesh.

Beyond Stupa 1 are the Buddhist temples and monasteries -places where the local guides never takes you. The temples are just rudimentary stone structures and the monasteries are but ruins with only the boundaries of where the walls would have been , visible.

The best time to visit Sanchi is last week of November when this quite hill erupts into festivity with Buddhist pilgrims converging here from all over the world for the Chethiyagiri Vihara festival.  During this festival,  the bones of two of Buddha’s disciples are displayed to the public. For the rest of the year the bones are locked up in a Sri Lankan temple, which was inaugurated by Jawaharlal Nehru in 1952.

How to get here:

Sanchi is 46 kilometers north-east of Bhopal.  Once can take one of the several tourists buses shuttling between Sanchi and Bhopal or hire a taxi.

What else to see:

Bhimbetka Caves. The caves with rock paintings dating back to the stone ages.

Bhojpur: The unfinished temple –the Bhojeshvar temple  with one of the largest lingas

Udaigiri Caves: The Hindu and Jain rock cut shelters with images of Gods carved in them.

 

 

“There is Something Beautiful in a Struggle”- Sohrab Hura Magnum Nominee

 (sanjay austa sanjayausta@gmail.)

Photographer Sorabh Hura.

(The interview appeared first in the  Deccan Herald. Nov. 2014)

News often travels at the speed of light in the pulsating photographers community in India. Therefore, when photographer Sohrab Hura, 32, was nominated to Magnum, it created quite a buzz. He was after all, the first  in 37 years after Raghu Rai to be invited to be part of this elite photographer’s clique.

“Hura who”?,  many wondered. Hura, by his own admission lives in a bubble. But his name did ring a bell. Head tonsured, he would often appear at photo- events flummoxing photographers with his searching queries, put  in his characteristic  long-winded way.

But his work? I tried Google. No. Nothing.  Where was his website?  Though famous,  Hura does not have what the photographers call  ‘web presence’. His work barely shows  up on Google.

Hura,  is something of an antediluvian. He plays the part of the archetypal artist toiling away in isolation, often in privation but indifferent to the fame his work begets him.

“I don’t like to get too comfortable. If I get too comfortable, I can’t perform.  People struggle for many decades before they get recognition. I think there is something beautiful in it. I think it’s very important to be struggling”, he says.

Perhaps that’s why he persists in using the film camera, wallowing in what Raghu Rai calls ‘nostalgia’, even though almost all photographers the world over turned a corner with digital, almost a decade ago.

And as for the Magnum nomination, he says it came with a sense of sadness,  “ I was incredibly  happy in making my work in isolation and anonymity . Its like being on a beautiful island and then seeing a boatload of people coming and now you have to share the island with them”, he says.

If  there is  a man with more  contempt for fame and fortune it is Hura, you would think. But Hura  is not exactly a guy living under a rock as he would have you believe.  He is more clued in to the ways of the world, than he lets on. He is the sort of guy who aims for success but is extremely bashful when he achieves it. For one,  he does not miss sending his photos for any  major photography awards there are. (The magnum nomination came about when Hura first applied for it).

He even sent  his Kumbh Mela photos for the World Press Photo Awards and when his mentor, photographer Swapan Parekh – who was one of the judges that year- complained that all Indian photographers sent Kumb Mela photos, Hura was embarrassed.

The truth is, that  while other photographers were busy making a living – optimizing their websites and cultivating clients- Hura obsessed himself with photography for the love of it.

“I don’t have much money of my own but I am lucky I don’t come from a place where I have to look after my parents. I am not  married . I have no kids. I am taking advantage of all this”, he says.

While he assiduously keeps his work away from  the hoi polloi,  he  has had it reviewed by many  important  photographers across the world, whose  names he spills out casually during the conversation.

It is  hard not to be infected by Hura’s  sense of dedication.  Impressed with it, photographers have gone to extraordinarily lengths to help him. For example, fascinated with Hura’s work, a Paris based photographer sent him her digital camera all the way from France for his project.

One could loosely classify Hura’s  work into two categories. The social documentaries   and the biographical.

Pati,  is his self-funded documentation of a sun-beaten village in Madhya Pradesh where Hura, spends upto 10 days at a time documenting the villagers living their hard life.

But it is perhaps Hura’s biographical work that has won him all the acclaim. ‘Life is Elsewhere’, is his recently concluded series where he documents among other things,  his dog and his mother- undergoing treatment for schizophrenia. The project culminated in another series ,`Look, its Getting Sunny Outside’- when his mother got a little better.

One is on slippery grounds reviewing Hura’s personal work, shot mostly in black and white.   Unlike the photos of say photographers like Steve McCurry, where the photography aesthetics can be easily applied,  Hura makes it difficult with his blurry, vague  and often washed out  photos.

There is a danger always   of eulogizing anything we don’t understand  as art or trashing it as junk. You either expose yourself as a  pretender or a philistine.

So I choose the easy  way out and ask Hura, as he shows his work on his laptop,  to explain some of his blurry black and white photos. “ I try to capture emotions and  feelings . I am not interested so much in the aesthetics of it”, he explains.

With his work offering no ready conclusions- perhaps precisely something Hura wants-  its maybe  safe  to rely on the collective wisdom of  the Magnum photographers who  have appropriated Hura as their  own.

Pangong Tso Lake. The Magnate of Bollywood Tourists

Brown-headed gulls throng the brackish Pangong Tso lake, Ladakh (sanjay austa austa)

Brown-headed gulls throng the brackish Pangong Tso lake, Ladakh

(The travelogue first appeared in Mumbai Mirror, Sep 2014)

No sooner  the airplane finished its ascend,  it was over  the Himalayas and was  circling above Leh,  waiting  its turn to land. It took less than 45 minutes for us to get from sweltering Delhi to stunning   Ladakh.

As I emerged from the small airport and its barbwired compound, I felt a disquieting pang. Widening before me,  was the unending expanse of all embracing beauty.

This was cheating, I thought.   A journey to a place so remote, so raw and so striking should be made piecemeal by piecemeal. It should be earned over time. Perhaps after crossing a few hills, glades, mountain passes and streams. Not parachuted upon,  the way I  did, plonking in the midst of splendor in less than half an hour from home.

But this is just as well. Ladakh now gets tourists not travellers. So planes are the preferred mode of transport for most visitors.   After the last of the snows melt here, starting mid-May, low cost airlines ferry thousands of tourists into  Ladakh, till late September. The land of monasteries, lamas and high passes is now the most accessible inaccessible place in India.

The lakes cradled in Ladakh’s  high mountains are remoter still. But there is no romance of  discovery anymore. Roads have spread  their tentacles  everywhere.

The long and winding road in the mountains of Ladkah, India (sanjay austa austa)

The long and winding road to Pangong, Ladakh

Not too long ago the joy of reaching any mountain lake (or summit)  in India  was on foot. You  trekked for hours through the cold desert wilderness often following a dubious  trail  and just when you lost   hope,  someone would point the  shimmering lake far ahead in the  valley. Exhausted, you could sit all day,  watching the emerald waters change colors  with the day. The small rewards that adventure brings are sublime.

But adventure is not what brings most Indians to Ladakh, much less to Pangong Tso. Its Bollywood. Ever since the Aamir Khan starrer 3-Idiots was filmed here, Pangong Tso (meaning long and narrow lake in Tibetan)  has seen an unprecedented upsurge of domestic tourists.  Middle class Indians with ageing  parents and babies in tow, make a long journey to this endorheic (land locked)  lake from Leh,  crossing Chang La (5360meters)– the third  highest motorable pass in the world.  And after a few selfies at the lake and a broth of Maggi  at one of the many tent- restaurants,  that have sprung up on the lakeside in recent years, they make a dash back to Leh.

Very few  stay back for the night. But if you do,  you witness the full grandeur of the lake.  The sunrise at Pangong is simply stunning. And the night sky is bejeweled with stars that seem so much brighter and closer. The lake may be salty, supporting  negligible marine life but it attracts birds including the brown- headed gulls. The silence meanwhile is eerie broken only by revelers on the lake.

Women laborers lean out of their truck. They maintain the high-altitude roads. Every day they drive up the mountains and remove debris, cut ice, or level the roads so tourists can have a smooth drive to Pangong Lake. These women were from Sakti village. (sanjay austa austa)

Women laborers  maintain the high-altitude road to Pangong. They remove debris, cut ice, or level the roads. Ladakh.

It is  175 kilometers to Pangong from Leh . Its therefore advisable to begin the trip early.  You need a permit which has to be flashed at several check-posts along the way. Many  remote outposts that fall near the Indo- China border need permits in Ladakh. Pangong Lake which is 134 kilometers long, is  60 percent in Chinese controlled Tibet. A 20 kilometer stretch of the lake on the Indian side of Line of Actual Control is disputed and controlled by China. Tensions sometimes run high even in  such serene surroundings when the Chinese make incursions here throwing the Indian army into a tizzy. There is therefore  extra surveillance here. There are perennial army outposts  at high passes like Chang La.

But for many hours on the narrow, looping road, its just you and your jeep.  There are of course  nomadic shepherds along the way. If you are lucky, as I was they  can invite you into their yak-hair tents and offer you yak tea. Others like an old woman I met, stand holding up baby lambs, enticing travellers to stop to take the exotic photos for a few bucks.

How to get here:

The best way to get to Ladakh is to take the  400 kilometer Manali – Leh highway. One can fly or drive up to Manali from New Delhi. From Manali one can drive or hire one of the many cabs to Leh. From Leh,  Pangong Tso  is 175 kilometers.

Where to stay:

Leh is littered with budget hotels with tariff starting  at 2000 rupees in the peak season.

Pangong Lake has modest tents that charge  500 per person per night. For a  more comfortable stay one can try Pangong Inn. The tariffs here start at 2500.

A couple shoot their photos at Pangong Tso lake, India (sanjay austa austa)

Pangong is thronged by Indian tourists, Pangong Lake, Ladakh.

Israeli tourists smoke at a restaurant at Chang La pass. (sanjay austa austa)

And the Israeli tourists are everywhere.  Chang La pass.

 

A photo with a lamb? The old lady stood by the roadside offering a photo for a price. (sanjay austa austa)

Want a photo with a lamb? The old lady stood by the roadside offering a photo for a price. Ladakh

 

Motorcycling is the best way to travel in Ladakh, India (sanjay austa austa)

Motorcycling is the best way to travel in Ladakh, India

 

Indian army maintains its surveillance via helicopter at Pangong Lake (sanjay austa austa)

Indian army maintains its surveillance via helicopter at Pangong Lake

Majuli- The River Island on the Brahmaputra

Sailing across on river Lohit, Majuli, Assam - Lohit river and the Brahamaputra flow around Majuli giving the island its name (centre ). This river is a birders paradise. Thousands of birds flock here including migratory in the winters. (Sanjay_Austa)

Sailing across on river Lohit, Majuli, Assam –  This river is a birders paradise, Majuli

(The travelogue appeared first in Mail Today, Sep 2014.)

Majuli, in Assam, is touted-in the media and tourist brochures alike- as the largest river island in the world. It is not. The Bananal Island in Brazil is much larger at 19,000 square kilometers. Majuli, is infact shrinking. It has shrunk from its original 1250 square kilometers to an area of only 421 square kilometers today. Year after year the waters of the Brahmaputra close in on the island swallowing acres of land, inch by steady inch.

The tribals, who form the majority of the island’s inhabitants, like to shack up near the shore. But they have had to withdraw their bamboo stilt houses further and further inland every year.

But Majuli does not need trumped up statistics to enhance its status. It is so spectacularly otherworldly that you feel you are in a different country altogether. Which is saying a lot, because North East itself is so out of the world in every sense of the word.

The Majuli romance begins right at the outset- with the ferry ride at Johrat. In fact, for a long time afterwards, it remains the most memorably part of the Majuli visit, despite its cultural and scenic wonders.

Dance and song, On the Brahmaputra, Assam. But its the women who have all the fun. They are sequestered in the lower berth of the ferry where they sing Assamese songs and dance away. (Sanjay_Austa)

While their men play cards women dance and sing in the lower deck of the ferry, Majuli

This was true for me especially because I chose to hop on a local ferry instead of hiring a private motorized boat. For twenty rupee, at Jorhat, I was herded in with the   fishermen, traders and tribals -people who sail everyday between the island and the mainland- carrying with them their goods and land transport; their bikes, their cycles and some their cars.

As soon as we set sail, the men arranged themselves in groups between the cars and bikes on the ferry’s roof, to play cards.

However, its the women,  occupying  the lower deck, who have all the fun. They sing and dance lustily to popular Assamese songs in gay abandon. The card- playing men on the roof, well within ear-shot, played on undistracted. The song-and dance routine is evidently a regular feature on the Majuli ferry.

The might of the Brahmaputra becomes evident in this one hour upstream journey to Majuli. I marvel aloud at the river’s expanse. “This is nothing. During the monsoon you wont see the coast at all”, a local near me exclaims. Even then, travelling in December as I was, I could not see the coast at places. The river was swollen. The setting sun dazzled the waters, merging land and water in its reds and oranges. You could just as well be on a vast ocean.

Music and dance at a Satra in Majuli, Assam- . Dance and music are an integral part of a child's education at the Majuli satras. Here small boys doing a classical dance routine to drums and percussion. (Sanjay_Austa)

Dance and music are an integral part of education at the Majuli satras, Majuli

With my camera shutter busy, I stuck out as the lone tourist. But I imagined Majuli would be brimming with sightseers. But I was mistaken. I seemed to be the only stranger on the island.

At the government-run Circuit House, where I made reservation, I was treated as a VIP. The cook, the manager, the waiter- the three regular employees-came to receive me at the gate. Perhaps they mistook me for a government official. Perhaps they were just grateful for the lone tourist deigning to show up.

The Satras where I headed to early next morning wore a deserted look. The Majuli Satras, or monasteries, established in the 15th century, are quite unlike conventional hermitages in that their reputation and identity is more cultural than religious. Students have come here for centuries to learn a variety of arts including dance, music, theatre and mask -making. All these art-form survive to this day along with the age old monastic rituals – the hard discipline, the prayers and the celibacy.

There were said to be 65 Satras of which 22 survive today. Among them Daksinpath, Garamur and Auniati are the more famous ones with more monks and more cultural activities.

Tribal houses in Majuli River Island. (Sanjay_Austa)

Tribal houses in Majuli, Assam

The senior monks were only too happy to show me around taking me into their private quarters and organizing impromptu dance recitals for the benefit of my camera. I am hindered by language, as the islanders barely speak Hindi – but my taxi driver is all too happy to double up as translator.

Shuttling from one Satra to another we drive on the road built along a levee looking over large tracks of wetlands populated with a smorgasbord of birds, both migratory and indigenous. The wetlands, covered with a thin layer of algae, are negotiated by farmers on a canoe. Buffaloes with their long sweeping horns,  lie neck deep in the waters chewing cud.Under the wooden bridges, the fishermen stand on boats casting their nets.Elsewhere women, with their saris tied around their ankles, harvest paddy.  It is an idyllic world, where you in the car,  feel like an intruder.

Whether Majuli will go underwater due to geological reasons- Majuli after all came into existence due to the change in the course of rivers -or because of man’s meddling, is yet unknown. But what is sure is that with Majuli will go an unique tribal civilization we ever knew.

Inside of a tribal's hut in Majuli Assam, India (Sanjay_Austa)

Inside of a tribal’s hut in Majuli Assam, India

 

Fishing in the shallows, Majuli island, Assam, The fishermen fish everywhere in Majuli. These two were fishing under this wooden bridge. (Sanjay_Austa)

Fishing in the shallows, Majuli island, Assam,

 

Threshing and grinding the grains,Majuli, Assam. Running the bullocks over the grains is common and remains the most effective way of threshing grains in most parts of rural india (Sanjay_Austa)

Threshing and grinding the grains,Majuli, Assam.

 

Long way across the watery fields, Majuli Island, Assam, Small rowing boats are docked everywhere in this swampy island overflowing with Brahamaputra waters for most of the year. If you need to get further afield these boats make for a good transport (Sanjay_Austa)

Farmers row these canoes to reach their fields, Majuli, Assam

 

Mahabalipuram- The Splendor by the Sea

It is shocking but Goats have a free run of the UNESCO world heritage site at Mahabalipuram. I saw them trample all over the bas-relief sculptures then urinating and ejecting its pellet like excreta all over the epic gods depicted here. Will the ASI men come out of the museums? (sanjay austa austa)

It is shocking but Goats have a free run of the UNESCO world heritage site at Mahabalipuram.

(Published first in Mail Today, Aug 2014)

Nothing seems to have changed in Mahabalipuram since the days of the Pallava Kings. Wherever you turn, you see men chipping away relentlessly at stone, covered completely in white dust. Some use the drill but most still yield the good old hammer and chisel. Littered on the beaches, on the pavements, in the backyards of shops, are Gods and goddesses, in various stages of completion. Those that are ready for sale, overflow from the shops on to the roadsides, making for an interesting drive-by exhibition of sorts.

This is just as well. Mahaballipuram – today an UNESCO world heritage site- was said to be a school for sculptors during the reign of the Pallavas. And all the bas-relief sculptures, rock-cut temple, rathas, built largely during the reigns of Narasimhavarman 1 and his successor Rajasimhavarman in the 7th century CE, were said to be products of that ancient school. Unfinished sculptures and rock-cut temples here, point to that theory.

Mahabalipuram (also called Mamallapuram, after King Mamalla or Narasimhavarman 1) carries that legacy forward, being as it today, a virtual sculpture factory, churning idols for the thousands of temple and curio shops across India.

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The Shore Temple, Mahabalipuram

The tourist guides, however, are a new phenomenon but unlike their northern counterparts they are far from pushy, displaying the typical South Indian reserve.

But at the Arjuna’s Penance area, a spectacular tableaux of bas- relief sculptures,  the guides open up and tell you details you could easily miss. The bas-relief is a mish mash of stories from the Mahabharata, the Panchatantra, and local folklore.

The most famous relief is of course of Arjuna,  standing on one leg, hands overheard   joined in prayer – a story of Arjuna’s penance to God Shiva seeking his weapon as boon. At the center of this rock face is a cleft with nagas representing a descending Ganga. It is believed that water once flowed though this cleft. The most prominent bas-relief are the life-size reliefs of two elephants.

But there are other lesser know but brilliant reliefs from the panchatantra- for example the relief of a praying cat, imitating Arjuna with an aim to hoodwink the mice into believing it has reformed.

A recumbent Vishnu resting under the protective hood of the five-headed serpent. A Pallava dynasty masterpiece (sanjay austa austa)

A recumbent Vishnu resting under the protective hood of the five-headed serpent. A Pallava dynasty masterpiece

One can admire these delicate stories in stone for hours not only for the exquisite craftsmanship , but also for these stories emblazoned on them.

But it’s perhaps a reflection of our apathy towards our cultural heritage that herds of goats are allowed to walk all over these stories in stone. They shockingly trapeze all over these bas-relief sculptures, trampling all over Arjuna and over the limbs of scores of devas to perch a while on the elephants to urinate and eject their pellet like excrement. Astonishingly their presence hardly registers any concern.

The Rathas dedicated to the five Pandavas are thankfully fenced in as is the Shore Temple. However over the centuries, the ravages of the brackish sea has swallowed up the fine features of the Gods, represented on the lower frieze of the Shore Temple.

The sea, in the shape of the devastating 2004 Tsunami also unearthed a new group of monuments, including a temple that is said to date back to the 1st century BCE. Excavation on this newly discovered site is still underway.

The most famous structure at Mahabalipuram is however not manmade. It’s Krishna’s Butterball- the large boulder, perched precariously on a rock face. Tourists love to pose Atlas-like under it, holding the boulder up on their backs or fingertips for the cameras.

Fishermen in Tamil Naidu as in other parts of India are very poor. Nothing has really changed for them over the decades. They have the same methods of fishing. They go at 4am in the morning almost 20 kilometers into the sea and fish among dangerous waters. (sanjay austa austa)

Fishermen in Tamil Naidu as in other parts of India are very poor, Mahabalipuram

Mahabalipuram, also has its beach, which is not much but is good enough for a quick swim. Fishermen’s boats and nets are strewn about on the sand. Mahabalipuram,  had once been an important sea port with trading routes all the way to the South East Asia. But it has also been a fishermen’s paradise. However for the fishermen time has stood still. Like centuries ago, they sail out deep into the sea, in their rag-tag boats at 4 am, looking for a catch, often gambling with their life.

Mahabalipuram, is barely 60 kilometers from Chennai and presents the first of the architectural jewels as you work your way southwards not straying too far from the Coromandel Coast, passing Pondicherry, Chidambaram, Kumbakonam, Madurai, Thanjavur, Madurai to finally reach Kanyakumari on this almost linear journey. But the splendors of Mahabalipuram stay with you, having set the right tone for the cultural extravaganza that Tamil Nadu offers.

This huge bolder amuses tourists the most. It is a big, irregular piece of boulder which is precariously perched on the rock ledge. (sanjay austa austa)

A fine balance: Krishna’s Butterball, Mahabalipuram

Mahabalipuram gets its fair share of foreign tourists because of its beautiful beach. (sanjay austa austa)

Mahabalipuram gets its fair share of foreign tourists, Mahabalipuram

 

Indian tourists at Mahabalipuram Beach. (sanjay austa austa)

…and the Indian tourists

 

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Sculptor at work, Mahabalipuram