Peter Bevan - Extracts from the Scroll

An Illustrated Diary made while travelling in India, 1989

The VARANESI GAP          20.1. 89

The train crowded, noisy, my bunk identified, the top of three. There is constant traffic in the corridor, fascinating, loud arguments as to bunk reservations, swappings of accommodation – unwrapping of home made food, - shouting of chai wallahs and biscuit, bettle and tobacco sellers. There’s a family in my carriage with 2 young children, another family seen down the carriage from my high, top bunk vantage point, unwrapped an enormous evening meal from home; then the next day an enormous breakfast ; and didn’t they then eat constantly from other packages and bags and buy from passing vendors: and then buy a meal of rice, dal and vegetables for 4 at midday! The meal I bought and couldn’t finish – lukewarm and distinctly unsavoury – eventually made me very sick on arrival at Varanesi hotel. I slept quite well on the train, much stopping and changing of passengers must have occurred, because when I woke up and peered down from my perch a whole new set of people had replaced the family.

 CHIDAMBARAM                  22.2.89

Anandhan, a temple guide who said he had worked at the Nataraja Temple for fifteen years befriended me; someone always does! He was extremely small, not more than four feet tall and consequently I felt like a giant. He was very pleasant and although I knew his job was to befriend foreign tourists and in showing them around persuade them to spend money; I found his company quite acceptable and I think he was a little surprised at my fore knowledge of some of the deities and facts concerning the temple. He spent at least an hour with me and pointed out many things I would have missed or taken days to find and I pointed out little things to him, that caught my eye like small relief carvings on columns, which I thought quite simple and beautiful. We arranged to meet again and he would escort me to the Sanctum Sanctorium at about 6pm when there would be a ‘Fire Ceremony’. I was there early and slowly walked around the colonnade, which surrounds the main temple. At about 5.58 there was the first bell ring then this was added to by other bells, large and small to create a terrific din and Anandhan and I rushed into the place, as did many others. There, all ‘artificial’ light had been extinguished and only many oil and candle flames illuminated the work-place of the priests and the inner sanctum. The bells softened a little and then kept a regular pulse while the priests about six of them rushed around with a flame and burning oil and some kind of grey dust which they sprinkled into a pan surrounding the lingham. Each Brahmin seemed to be doing something differently – mostly young ones, while older ones chanted or stood about watching everybody. The whole platform from my close position could now be seen to be stocked like an ironmongers shop, with rows of silver stainless steel, copper and wooden bowls, ladles, pots, pans of strange shapes and sizes, as well as other tools and equipment. Much water seemed to be available and the floor was constantly wet and covered with all sorts of substances giving the effect in the flickering light of some dark glistening kitchen. It didn’t last long and the crescendo of bells was reserved for the taking of fire into the place of the deity, slamming the doors shut, then re-opening them revealing the whole inner sanctum glowing with fire light and giving the audience the best siting of Shiva that they were gonna get. The whole scene was very impressive and one could see the crowd going away well - pleased.

 SRAVANABELAGOLA 12.3.89

 The Temple and the 22 metre single – stone statue of the Jain Saint Gomateshwara were fascinating and I felt here I could have stayed several days if I had the time. Its a 1000 years old and still in pristine condition and gigantic – the feet measuring a good 9ft long. Set in the centre of the temple compound – an upright standing figure, naked except for vines which grow at its feet and curve up around its legs to its torso – illustrates the myth that the saint stood for so long in meditation that real vines started to grow up around his body. The carving is simple but really ‘rounded’ and full, a single stone of very even grey granite. It’s at the Giants feet that the worshippers come and I also came and made my ‘offering’ of Rupees and heard the mutterings of the priest while he scattered holy water over my head with a small white flower and pressed the stalk dipped into some orange substance between my eyes. I asked him what he had said but he only muttered something which I didn’t understand and so I contented myself with my own ‘Pooja’ of awe and amazement at this monolith and at the surrounding temple.

 This was a really good day the bus stopped twice for refreshments and I ate without reservation – as I have been all the time since Kerala – some great meals in Bangalore especially at the Kamat Hotel where Krishna Mohan took me on the first visit. Now the staff smile and nod when I go in and help me with ordering different dishes and I drink the water! – unheard of! But it’s so delicious, I now know why it is automatic for Indians to expect and receive water in abundance at restaurants. Spent another ‘easy’ day today in another very beautiful park in Bangalore called Lalbargh; unlike Cubban Park it is precisely laid out in different sections like a Botanical Garden, but of course it doesn’t need hot houses. I wrote three letters in the shade of huge trees labeled Kanada and Hindi, which kept dropping little red balls onto me or near me that bounced 3 feet in the air. About 30 feet away under the shade of a huge Banyan Tree a whole family of about 20 were picnicking Indian-style as though no one else was in the park. They had all manner of cooking equipment even a large stainless steel conventional urn from which they drew water. Rugs, cushions, foods and a very loudly working ghetto blaster which shrieked-out homemade recordings, while they danced, played, laughed, shouted, ate, slept and generally made themselves at home in the splendor of the Moghuls Garden.