It’s probably one, or any combination of the above that happened to me while visiting Kanchipuram (the city of one thousand temples) in Tamil Nadu, so I just have to paint you a word picture: Apart from the obvious, we had heard of an ancient Jain Temple that was said to be undergoing renovation. Our driver managed to find it. Not much work was evident here; in fact, it was mostly a ruin. It was in a part of town where outsiders seldom visit; therefore, our car caused quite a stir. We had come to see the temple we explained to the people who crowded around us. Soon somebody sent for the old woman who lived down the block who, it was said, had been entrusted with the key.
By the time she showed up with a key that was almost as big as herself, the crowd was still growing. We were told that this particular temple, though now mostly in ruins, held a most beautiful idol in its inner sanctum. The crowd parted to let the old woman through. She stepped gingerly across the rubble on calloused feet and led us to a great wooden door. An ancient lock secured the bolt. It looked like it hadn’t been opened for centuries. As she struggled with the key, we began to have doubts.
Finally, it clicked and the lock sprang open. Some youths rushed forward to help her with the door. It shuddered and creaked in agonizing protest. Every inch was fought. More brawn was added and, at last, the great door swung open. There was a tremendous sound emanating from the inside; it gathered, and virtual cloud of black bats flew out from the darkness, their wings stirring a breeze that ruffled our hair on an otherwise breathless afternoon. More bats followed in volleys.
The sight was so strange; I forgot to reach for my camera. In fact, it felt like I had been transported back to a time when there were no cameras. I even doubted my own existence.
At first, there was nothing to see in the blackness inside. We squinted our eyes. Then, suddenly, we saw it: the idol. It was beautiful, indeed. I now understood why it needed to be locked up. Not that anyone of faith would steal it. It seemed inviolate. But there will always be those who would cart something sacred away to exhibit in their own carnival.
It seemed to shine with a light of its own, especially from a face that was the very definition of serenity. Again, I failed to reach for my camera. To take a picture now seemed the very definition of gauche.
The accompanying photos here are of Kanchipuram, a busy and chaotic South Indian city with a rich historical tapestry. Every one of its temples is notable, each with a rich history of its own. A person with a camera could easily spend himself and dissolve into a pool of sweat in the unrelenting tropical heat before having recorded even a fraction of all that is here to see. For a brief instant I was blessed, being afford a moment that went even beyond seeing - beyond time. It is therefore altogether fitting that no record exists.
Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com
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