Mamallapuram, Tamil Nadu, South India

Less than two hours drive south from Chennai is historic Mamallapuram, now designated as a World Heritage site. It was the second capital and seaport of the Pallava kings of Kanchipuram who ruled much of Tamil Nadu from the 4th to the 9th century. Today, they are remembered primarily for their patronage and promotion of Dravidian architecture. The landscape in and around Mamallapuram features huge rock outcroppings which have traditionally attracted armies of stone cutters whose progeny to this day still ply their trade producing intricate sculptures of Hindu gods and goddesses.

The principal attraction here is the Shore Temple. It has been a matter of intense speculation, some claiming that seven of these were originally built (six, they say, having since been claimed by the sea). Though now largely relegated to myth, the tsunami - which hit the coast in December of 2004 - nevertheless re-ignited the controversy after some eye-witnesses recalled seeing patterned arrangements of stone emerge briefly from the water.

Mamallapuram (or Mahabalipuram, as it was called up until only a few years ago) also boasts of having the largest open air bas-relief monolith in the world, known as “Arjuna’s Penance” or “The Descent of Ganga”. In addition there are the “Five Rathas”, or vehicles, which, scholars suspect, was the result of attempting to determine a suitable architectural style for yet to be commissioned Pallava-sponsored temples built to honor the gods they revered.

Virtual tomes have been published about all the antiquities that can be found in Mamallapuram. Of more immediate interest to the casual traveler might be the fact that Mamallapuram is the only spot on India’s arid east coast that can claim to have world class resorts. The area is an amalgam of the very old and the very new and, as such, a fair representation of present-day India.

East Coast Road (ECR), Tamil Nadu, India

The East Coast Road starts at the Old Mahabalipuram Road crossing at Tidel Park, Chennai’s IT colossus. It runs about 4 km east to Thiruvanmiyur where it turns sharply south to skirt the coast all the way down to Cuddalore. I’ve only been as far as the former French colony of Puducherry, approximately 150 km away. The ECR is billed as an ‘Express Highway’. Indeed, the only thing it has in common with ‘Express’ or ‘Highway’ is that it becomes a toll road at Uthandi. Up until this point it’s like any other Indian intra-city road, two-lanes, winding through dense traffic in tough ethnic neighborhoods of indistinguishable hues. Along the way one is treated to a dense pastiche involving temples, churches and mosques; dogs, cows and camels; retail shops, big and small; and every form of transport ever devised by mankind from ox-cart to Mercedes-Benz. This stretch contains food courts, multiplex theaters, resorts, and amusement parks.

From Uthandi on, the traffic thins considerably. The road remains two-lane and has numerous speed bumps and metal (swerve) gates especially as one passes through any one of the many fishing villages that dot the coast. There are now panoramic openings between these settlements. The Bay of Bengal is to the left. The vegetation alternates between scrub palms and cacti suited to arid climes; and coconut palms and banana leaf more abundantly found along India’s opposite Malabar Coast. The stretch between Uthandi and historic Mahabalipuram contains world class resorts such as the Taj’s Fisherman’s Cove and GRT Resort. Curiosities like Dakshina Chitra and Romulus Whittaker’s Madras Crocodile Bank are worthwhile stops along the way.

From Mahabalipuram on south, the ride becomes interesting from the perspective of landscape alone. You begin to see rice paddies along side the road. The vegetation becomes decidedly tropical. Sometimes the Rain Trees form a dense canopy across the road for several miles on end. Add an oxcart to the scene, and you have a quintessential picture of the South Indian state of Karnataka.

Suddenly, the lush greens give way to pale, blinding lunar scapes. To the west there are unbroken salt flats as far as the eye can see. Tiny dark figures in white loincloths harvest the salt and gather it in conical mounds. The vegetation is non-existent to sparse. Cacti line the endless flat; a few paltry strands of grass; a lone scrub palm. Somewhere I noticed a shed snakeskin bleaching in the sun.

And then, just as suddenly, the lush tropical greens are back. I notice a Hanuman temple; whole villages built entirely of thatch. Gradually, the traffic increases as the towns begin to merge into one another once again. Puducherry is but a few miles away. We blow past the University (a good one, I am told); ditto, Auroville (I have little interest in cults). Our first stop is the Sri Manakula Vinayagar (Ganesha) Temple - complete with live elephants - in the French Quarter. By now, we’re pretty hungry after our three-hour ride. Some French food sounds good just about now. We ask a rickshaw driver for directions to Satsanga (restaurant), famous for its soupe de poisson and its terrine de lapin or poulet piment vert et frites. We’ve also heard some good reports about the crème caramel as well as the coffee. Here in India, that’s saying something.

GRT Temple Bay Resort; Mahabalipuram, India

Back in the early seventies when I traveled these parts I remember coming back from Sri Lanka where I had gone to extend my Indian visa. While there, I befriended a young woman - the wife of an American airline pilot - who was traveling alone with her six year old son. At some point, we left this island (pre-Tamil Tiger) paradise and took the ferry back to India. The landing in the middle of night at what amounted to little more than a bleak, out-of-the-way fishing village brought the woman to tears. “There is nothing to buy here,” she wailed, adding, “I must get back to Delhi straight away.”

She was right. India offered very little in those days to keep the consumer-oriented Westerner happy. Going from Lanka to India was like going from India to Burma. At least India had Coca Cola (while Burma did not).

Things have since changed quite dramatically, of course. It now has become possible to spend a boatload of money even in India. Some years back, I remember reading somewhere that Bombay had made the list as one of the most expensive cities in the world. I never believed it, thinking whoever was charged with compiling the data for India was being had.

The GRT Temple Bay Resort in the historic town of Mahabalipuram is one of the places where you can spend dollars in style. The accommodations, food and facilities are first class. There are tiny bungalows with porches from where you can watch the waves rolling in while gently rocking in a hammock. Western style drinks cost around $7.

We went there for Mother’s Day this year, just for the food at the Warf, a thatched roof restaurant right on the water. Looking out at the beach from under a beach umbrella, you are witness to a gentle but steady procession of beach combers, Western and Indian alike. Looking south, you can see the famed Shore Temple in the distance and the jetty that fortifies it against the sea.

From my previous visits to GRT, I remember the beach as having been considerably wider than it is now. It may well be that what has been built to protect the Shore Temple is now washing away sandy beaches elsewhere.

Still, the point is that India is now prepared to take your dollars and give you top notch accommodations and facilities in return. My friend from my Sri Lankan travels would have been pleased. There are other resorts now springing up all along the coast south of Chennai. As with all things, some are better than others; some cater to Indians, some to Westerners. Often the food and cost is the only difference.

GRT is one of the best I’ve seen. The location itself is unassailable. Ocean swimming is often dangerous due to riptides. The outdoor pool, however, looks wonderfully inviting. The way it’s situated it appears almost seamlessly connected with the Bay of Bengal.