In search of the cosmic dancer

It was winter of 2008 and Aparna was nicely pregnant (which meant that, by no stretch of imagination could you mistake it for a paunch and neither had she reached the stage where one starts waddling like a pregnant duck {Oh now I know what the phrase means!!}).  I had a hectic many months at work and had been jet setting between Delhi and Bangalore with not a break in between. Taruni had her winter holidays and Aparna was looking for a break from her geek world of Infosys.

We decided to foray into the heart land of Tamilnadu on a Temple trip. Aparna is fervently religious and has a more than a passing interest in history and architecture. We had been dabbling a little into Shaivism in his avatara of Nataraja or the “lord of dance” and this was the perfect field trip for us. So it was Bangalore-Thanjavur (of the famed Tanjore paintings)-Kumbakonam-Chidambaram-Rameswaram-Madurai-Bangalore. Except for probably Rajiv Joe and Rachana, most of my North Indian friends probably wouldn’t even have heard of most of these places. Believe me it’s a treasure trove of temples.

At our first stop at Thanjavur, we saw the immense Brihadeeswaran Kovil (Temple of 

Brihadeeshwara). This is one of the largest temples in India, is approx 1000 years old, built by Raja Raja Chola and is dedicated to Shiva. The Vimana (tower above the temple) is so tall (200 + ft) and is carved of a single piece of rock and to achieve this, a ramp was built measuring about 7 kilometres long and the rock was hauled by elephants and placed at its present location!! The lord of the temple is Shiva in the form an enormous Linga.

As is the norm in most of Tamil Nadu, the innermost sanctum of the temple is unlit by electrical lights and it is by either reflected sunlight or the flickering light of the Aarti that you can glimpse God. Since Thanjavur is the home of the Tanjore style of painting, we looked around a bit especially around the Maratha palace to see if we could lay our hands on a “reasonable” piece of art. I am sure it isn’t common knowledge that the sway of the Maratha empire extended deep into Tamil Nadu and the Nayaks ruled here in the 16^th and 17^th Century. The Tanjore style of painting where gold foil and embedded semi precious stones are used with rich and vivid colours was patronized by the Nayaks. We were even taken on a tour by an actual Marathi speaking artist to his house where he showed us his fabulous works of art. Unfortunately, though we could appreciate it, we couldn’t pay for it. And we had relegated the Tanjore painting to a far second to buying a genuine bronze Nataraja, which we hoped to on this trip.

 Our next stop was Kumbakonam. This is home to the beautiful Sarangapani temple dedicated to Vishnu. The temple had an immensely tall Gopuram (a tower at the entrance) full of

sculptures of gods and goddesses and rakshasas. Surprisingly (unusual in Tamil Nadu), at the corner there were also a number of erotic sculptures of men and women cavorting in the nude. Very voluptuous and again surprisingly, very fair all of them !!! Kumbakonam is also home to the bronze industry and our desire to own a bronze Nataraja was strengthened here. Kumbakonam is also famous for its  “Kumbakonam Degree Coffee”. I am not

really sure what the degree implies, but it is served in a brass tumbler and dabara, is scalding hot, strong and delicious.

The next day that we were to travel to Chidambaram, Taruni fell very ill with a painful catch in her neck and we had to abandon all our plans. Aparna managed a trip to Swami Malai, a nearby hillock with a temple, where the bronzes are actually cast and carved, however, was unable to procure any and came back disappointed. We had just one more day to visit Chidambaram since our train tickets were booked for the next night out of Kumbakonam to Trichy. There is a story about Chidambaram and Nataraja which is intriguing and compelling about the magic and mystique of Shiva. The area around Chidambaram has mangroves which were known as the forests of Thillai.

 Aeons before, in the forests of Thilllai lived Sadhus and  Rishis. These learned men had gone wayward and started believing themselves to be as, if not more powerful, than the gods themselves. To teach them a lesson, Shiva descended to Thillai as a Bhikshathan (mendicant)

along with Vishnu in the form of Mohini an enchantress. Shiva plays his drum or the Damaru and Mohini dances sensuously to the rhythms. The Sadhus and their women folk are captivated by this music and dance and follow the couple in a trance into the forests. Suddenly, the Sadhus are angered at this, especially their women folk being led away and hurl magical curses at Shiva. The snake that they cast at him, he wears it as an ornament around his neck, a tiger that attacks him, he skins with his little finger and wraps its skin around his waist and a demon they set onto him, he tramples and vanquishes as he dances the Ananda Tandava (the dance of bliss) and reveals his true self. It is believed that Chidambaram was the centre of the universe and is home to the famous “Chidambara Rahasyam” or “Chidambaram’s Secret”.

The next day, Taruni was a lot better and to help her, we upgraded ourselves from an Ambassador to an Innova as our taxi and started off to Chidambaram at a leisurely time. Enroute was a temple famous for its curative powers and we perforce had to “Matha theko” there as well. So, by the time we arrived at Chidambaram at 1 p.m., the culmination of our enchantment with Shiva, it was siesta time. What we didn’t realize was that the temples in Tamil Nadu closed at about 12ish and opened around 4:30-5. And our train (from Kumbakonam, more than 2 hrs away) was at around 8 p.m. Our plan had been, to experience the magic of Shiva at Chidambaram, drive to Kumbakonam and shop for a bronze Nataraja and then catch the train. And now, with the temple closed, we had time enough for only one. It was indeed a test of our resolve, of which to choose, and I am glad the spiritual won victory over the materialistic side. We had travelled this far, to the centre of the universe, to feel the rhythm of existence. We could always pick up a Nataraja anywhere, even in Bangalore. Right?

So, we spent a wonderful and unhurried few hours in and around the temple and saw the intricately carved Ratha or chariot in which God is perambulated around the temple. The paths surrounding the temple, where the chariot is pulled by the faithful are called the North, South, 

East and West Car streets. Taruni also delighted us with her version of the Nataraja pose as we waited for the doors to open. While we waited, we were told the story of how Shiva cheated to win the title of the greatest dancer. It seems, Shiva and Parvati had a competition as to who was the better dancer and for every movement of Shiva, Parvati was able to match it step for step. Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to better her without cheating, he adopted a pose where he raised his right leg completely vertical, straight up as he stood on his left. Parvati, realizes that this is a very un-lady like pose and refrains and concedes to Shiva.

The darshana of Shiva was very beautiful, in the form of Nataraja and it only evoked a twinge of disappointment in our hearts that we wouldn’t be carrying him home. Adjacent to the main sanctum sanctorum is a small mantapa which is covered by a richly embellished curtain. It hides within it, the Chidambara Rahasyam. We waited with bated breath to see what wonderment was hidden inside as the Pujari dramatically drew the curtain aside.

And there was “nothing”. I mean absolutely nothing. It was then that it was explained to us, that the Rahasyam or the secret is that, what we see is Maya or an illusion and God and the universe exists within us. I think it needs enlightenment to realize rather than understand this.

Immediately after the darshana, we sped back to Kumbakonam, afraid that we would miss our train. As luck would have it, the traffic was light and the driver was fast and we were back at Kumbakonam with about 30 minutes to spare. A hope was sparked in us, though the light was fading, as we enquired with the driver if there were any sellers of bronzes nearby, at this hour. He took us to the precincts of one of the temples, on the outer side of which seemed to be a few ramshackle shops with some 4 ft  figurines in the making.  The first shop seemed to specialize in large sizes, the second didn’t have any Natarajas ready and neither did the third of the size we needed. Feeling extremely disappointed, I was about to leave, when I spied a Nataraja on the top most shelf, in the dark recesses of the shop, but it seemed to be black in colour. When I asked for it, he seemed a little hesitant and said that it had been around for a long time.

My hands trembled as I tried to wipe the soot and grime away. I couldn’t see the metal, it was so coated with grime and cobwebs, but the features seemed to be angular and clean as Chola bronzes are. I couldn’t even ask Aparna for a second opinion since she was in the car with Taruni on her lap, fast asleep. I turned to the shop keeper and he said 8000 rupees. This was way above our budget of 3-4000. And I didn’t have time to bargain. I quickly pulled out my purse and checked, I had about 5000 rupees. I decided to keep 500 rupees aside and made an offer of 4500. The owner refused outright but quoted 6000. I was desperate and running out of time, so I offered the entire 5000 and said that’s all I had and either he agreed or didn’t, since I had to catch a train. He wavered for a moment and grumbled that it was too less, so I said sorry and started moving away. He called me back and said “fine OK”. My heart took a leap as I thrust all the money into his hand and asked him to quickly pack it.

One of the helpers pulled out a piece of cloth and some liquid and started to polish it. I told him to stop and just pack it. He looked a little bewildered, but wrapped it in newspaper and put it into a box. I quickly carried it to the car and we set course towards the railway station.  Aparna asked me “how does it look” and I frankly said, “I don’t know, but I think it is good”. Just short of the railway station, we stopped at the ATM because I had absolutely no money and we hadn’t paid for the taxi yet. We reached the station with a few minutes to spare. Once inside the compartment, we opened the box and examined the Nataraja.

It was black, except the part where the worker had wiped off a bit of the grime where it was a dull but warm pinkish colour. We dropped a few drops of oil on a hand kerchief and started scrubbing at the grime. Slowly emerged a beautiful figure, the features were sharp and angular, the expression peaceful, with a hint of a smile. The body was sinewy yet lithe, even the slight bulge of the calf muscle was sculpted well. The tiger skin around the waist, the anklets, the damaru signifying the rhythm of the universe, the fire in his left hand signifying destruction, the stubby demon at his foot, Apasmara Purusha signifying ignorance and the act of it being vanquished by Shiva, the cosmic dancer surrounded by the aureole of flames which represents the universe…