A Primer on South Indian Temples

Finally continuing with my "Coming Attractions," i.e. blog posts about my time in India, I present to you pictures and information about what is probably my favorite part of going to India: visiting temples.

Let's start with the Brihadeeswarar Temple in Thanjavur, often known as the Big Temple. This is my temple in more way than one. Located in the town where I was born, this is the temple where I feel most at home in India. Its main tower, or gopuram, is impressively tall (216 feet, according to Wikipedia [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brihadeeswarar_Temple]), and it is the world's first complete granite temple, also according to Wikipedia. Both facts make it literally an architectural marvel. Commissioned by King Rajaraja Chola in 1002 AD, the temple is celebrating its millenial year in 2010.

Brihadeeswarar is the name of the form of Lord Shiva worshiped at the Big Temple, making the temple a Shiva temple (as opposed to a Vishnu temple, as you'll see later). Small Nandi statues line the outer perimeter of the temple grounds, as seen below:

Legend has it that the shadow of the gopuram never falls on the ground, falling only upon the tower itself--that's how tall it is. There is a tree behind the gopuram upon which a number of highly camouflaged lizards live. Legend also has it that if you can find a lizard on that tree with your naked eye, whatever you prayed for at the temple will be granted. This is the temple where I had my first and only ride on an elephant (it was a baby, and had prickly hairs on its back; did you know that elephants had hairs on their backs? I certainly didn't until I rode that one). This is the temple where my alternate name, Brihadaambal, comes from. [As per the tradition of my mother's family, girls are given unofficial names borrowed from a goddess worshiped in their hometowns to commemorate their birthplace. Brihadaambal is the name of Brihadeeswarar's consort, and her sanctum stands to the right of the main tower in the Big Temple.]

I love the history of this temple, the very smell and sound of it. For its size alone, it is not to be missed on a tour of temples in the South of India.

Here's one last picture, just to show the two massive gates that stand before the actual temple grounds:

With my great-aunt and great-uncle, I visited a number of temples in the villages surrounding Thanjavur while I was staying with my mother's family. Here are some shots I took in Mellatore, the ancestral village of one of my great-grandfathers, though for the life of me I couldn't tell you which one:

Above is a Vishnu temple (indicated by the chakram, naamam, and sangu sculptures on top of the stone awning) located at the end of the street where my great-grandfather lived with his family. Notice how this temple is brightly painted, whereas the Big Temple is the natural color of stone. I used to think that painting temples in bright colors was a recent phenomenon, but I think that most temples, ancient or otherwise, start out brightly painted, but the paint wears off with time, hence the color of most ancient temples--unless they've been recently renovated, as some have. Notice also the vertical white and red stripes that line the bottom of the temple structure. You'll see these on many temples and temple walls in South India. I have no idea why they're painted in this fashion, but they are.

This is a beautiful kolam I saw on the floor inside the Vishnu temple pictured above. A kolam is an intricate dot-and-line design drawn with rice flour on the ground for ritualistic and religious purposes. There are a number of standard kolam designs. They are made out of rice flour so that ants can eat them, or so my mother has once told me. I've been trying to learn how to drawkolams this summer, and it is not easy to draw out lines of rice flour with your bare fingers, let me tell you. The person who drew the one above is very skilled indeed.

I saw the above instrumentalists (the first playing the naadaswaram, a sort of Indian oboe, and the second playing a type of drum, the name of which I don't know) in front of a Ganesh temple in this same village. They were playing because an upanayanam, or sacred thread ceremony (a coming-of-age ceremony for males) was occurring inside the temple. You'll see instrumentalists like this, or at least hear recordings of their music, at south Indian weddings and other religious events.

Next on my temple tour was the Panchanadeeswarar Temple in Thiruvaiyaaru (literally, five holy rivers; my great-uncle told me this name came about because you cross five tributaries of the holy River Kaveri on the road to this town from Thanjavur):

The name of the deity worshiped here, a form of Lord Shiva, means Lord (Eeswar) of five (Pancha) rivers (Nadi). To the left of the frame is the main tower, or gopuram. Within the bounds of the yellow stone wall on the right of the frame is the large temple moat or well. Many temples have their own sources of water built onto the grounds. I'm not sure if the temples use the water in those moats anymore, but the moats still exist. The stone ground at this temple was searing hot even in February. I remember its being unbearable during previous trips here in the summertime. The idols of the God and Goddess at this temple are big and quite beautiful.

One of the things I liked most about this temple were the paintings (would it be correct to call them frescoes?) painted on the inside of the perimeter walls. I saw them while doing the ritual circumambulation (pradakshanam) of the temple. Aren't they beautiful?

On the same day, we also visited the resting place (samaathi) of the composer-saint Sri Thyagaraja, who composed many (many) famous and lovely Carnatic songs in his day. His resting place is located right on the banks of the aforementioned holy River Kaveri. Like in other ancient societies, bodies of water are highly revered in the Indian culture. Rivers are most often personified as female deities, and washing one's feet or body in the waters of any holy river, the Kaveri included, is said to cleanse one of one's sins. I'm not sure if I had ever done this before, though I'm thinking I probably had, but since we were so close to the river, my great-aunt and I walked the few steps down to the water and bathed our feet. It was pretty cool.

You can see the river just past the tree and the kids playing on the sandy ground. Those kids would later ask for water from my bottle and then proceed to pass the bottle around, nearly depleting me of my precious mineral water. They were pretty cute though, so I guess it was okay. You can also see the silhouette of my great-uncle in the right foreground of the photo. He has hairy ears, which I find highly amusing.

My mother was born in Thiruvaiyaaru and my uncle works in a school there now, making it yet another town to which my family is connected.

Leaving the greatest connection for the last, we come to Thirupponthuruthi (it's a mouthful, I know), where my mother grew up, and where I believe her fondest memories were made. This place is very much still a village, with picturesque palm trees everywhere and humble homes lining the narrow streets. There are a few things I don't like about the village, the lack of soap in public restrooms for instance, but it's quite a pleasant place, and has a number of temples as well. The only one I visited was the local Shiva temple. I'm not sure what the name of this particular deity is, unfortunately, but here are a few shots of the temple.
This is a mirrored, gold-plated, and jeweled palanquin used to convey miniature idols of the deities for temple ceremonies that involve parades. I thought it was beautiful.

My favorite part of this temple is the story associated with it. You'll notice a small yellow shelter in front of the main tower in the picture above. This shelter contains an idol of the bull Nandi, who is Shiva's vehicle--this is the same Nandi that lines Shiva temple walls. Normally, the Nandi shelter is located directly in front of the door to the temple, so that the Lord is always in Nandi's line of sight. However, you'll notice that the shelter is shifted slightly to the left in this photo.

Here's the cool story: legend has it that a great Shiva devotee came to the outer gate of this temple and began singing the Lord's praise. I'm not sure why, but he never entered the temple itself, so he was singing the entire time without a glimpse of the idol--and in Hindu culture, being able to see the idol is an important part of devotion. Seeing the deep faith of the devotee, Nandi Himself animated the statue of Nandi and shifted it to the left of the door, providing the Shiva devotee with a clear sight of the Lord. This is supposedly the only temple you'll ever see where Nandi is not located directly in front of Lord Shiva. Cool stuff.

I apologize for the length of this post, but as you can see, I really love the subject matter. I've visited many other temples during my multiple trips to India, but this was the first trip during which I made a conscious effort to remember all the things I saw and learned. I hope this post was educational and interesting and not boring!

Jury Duty = Staycation

Early last summer, when people were just beginning to realize that the economy was very bad, indeed, the term "staycation" came into vogue, showing up in the features sections of all sorts of newspapers. In a staycation, the articles explained, one explores everything one's own city has to offer in the way of culture and entertainment, thus simulating a vacation without having to pay for travel or a hotel stay. When I went to Chicago with a few girlfriends at the end of last May, I really enjoyed exploring that city's parks and museums and architecture, and told myself repeatedly that I would put together a Houston staycation once I got home, encompassing parks and museums and other landmarks. As is typical for me, I never turned my thoughts into action. And then fate stepped in.

Some time last fall, I received a summons for federal jury duty. Have never actually served on a jury before, and using the pop cultural reaction to jury duty as a guide, I was most displeased. I couldn't get out of it, though, so last Monday, I reported to the federal courthouse in downtown Houston--and got selected for the 14-person jury out of 42 possible candidates. Just my luck that the lawyers didn't think I'd be biased, right? Jury duty itself hasn't been nearly as much of a drag as I had anticipated; the other jurors are pretty amusing middle-aged people (12 of them women, including me, and 2 of them men), and there's never a dull moment in the jury room. The courtroom gets very cold and sometimes boring, though, and actually being a juror, ie having to decide on a person's guilt or innocence, is not an easy thing--and is actually much more trying than one might imagine.

For reasons somewhat unbeknownst to me, we tend to have many lengthy breaks during any given day, during which the lawyers work their lawyerly magic or shout at each other or something. These breaks give us jurors a chance to thaw out, (see above for reference to the courtroom's cool temperature) and have also given me a chance to check out the sights around the courthouse. There are two parks within two blocks of the federal building, and a third not four more blocks away. City hall is two blocks away, and the Central Houston Public Library one block beyond that. The library is particularly impressive: three floors high, an entire section devoted to foreign-language books, another to music, and displays of new books everywhere! I don't have a Houston public library card, but I might have to get one some time in the next four years just so I can take advantage of that sweet library. I'm hoping to explore the area a bit more tomorrow, including the tunnel system under the Bank of America building that contains restaurants, (I can now put names to a lot of the buildings I've admired in our skyline! How cool is that?) the entertainment complex Bayou Place, (which includes the Verizon Wireless Theater, where I saw Imogen Heap perform in concert less than two weeks ago) and the Hobby Center vicinity. Additionally, I drive through the quirky Montrose area on my way into downtown, and have pinpointed a number of restaurants, coffee houses, and possible study locations to explore at my leisure over my next four years in medical school.

Moral of the jury duty story: Life is exciting when one makes it seem so.

Saving CeeCee Honeycutt

I just finished Saving CeeCee Honeycutt by Beth Hoffman, which was kindly given to me by a friend who interned at Penguin this past semester.

A short summary: main character Cecelia Rose Honeycutt has looked after her psychotic mother for most of her twelve-year-old life while her father has been traveling for work--and also to get away from his family's problems. When her mother passes away in an accident, young CeeCee is whisked off to live in Savannah, Georgia with her great-aunt. Over her first summer there, she meets a host of eccentric and loving women who help her begin to heal all the wounds inflicted upon her by cruel circumstance.

The book is a love song to the South (and also a bit of a downer about the North, which I'm sure would rub a few people the wrong way) and a testament to the power of female companionship. It was a bit disconcerting, too, in that though it is an adult's book, it is written completely from the twelve-year-old main character's perspective, which means that sometimes the reader understands things the protagonist does not, and also that the writing seems a bit elementary at times, when really it's just reflecting the protagonist's point of view.

I was touched by the author's brutally honest descriptions of CeeCee's mother's antics, and of the pain that CeeCee feels because of them. A few quotable quotes:

"And now here I was...thinking about how much easier everything would be if my mother was locked up in a sanatorium. I sometimes even wished she were dead. It was terrible to think such a thing, but I just couldn't help it. I'm not saying I wanted to skip through life in a rosy blur from one Disney experience to the next--all I longed for was to know one whole happy day." (22)

"As I knocked on her door, begging her to let me in, I realized I had just taken my father's place: there I was, standing outside her locked bedroom door, frustrated and helpless and just plain tired. Tired of it all." (76)

"I wondered if I'd ever be so lucky to have a girlfriend I'd grow old with, a girlfriend who knew my secrets, my fears, my hopes--and loved me anyway." (111-112)

"I felt selfish and small as I watched my aunt from the kitchen window. She had given me so much, so freely, yet I was unable to do something as simple as sit at her side." (115)

"'But I guess some folks is willin' to pay anything for hope.'" (145)

"'Ain't no sun in the kitchen without your face lookin' up at me.'" (142)

"'Don't go wastin' all them bright tomorrows you ain't even seen by hangin' on to what happened yesterday. Let go, child. Just breathe out and let go.'" (290)

"'It's how we survive the hurts in life that brings us strength and gives us our beauty.'" (302)

Also, I'm not going to lie: with the book consisting of such a female-dominated world, I felt as if homoeroticism was the huge elephant in the room the whole time I was reading. Everyone's husband was dead or divorced with or absent in some other way, but there were just so many women. I almost felt like it was a slight cop-out on the part of the author. I'm not saying she needed some sort of graphic scene of homoeroticism, but she could have hinted at it subtly the way other things were hinted at in the novel. I do applaud her portrayal of free female sexuality, though.