Mahabalipuram

My reasons for coming to the small coastal town of Mahabalipuram (sometimes called the equally, if not more ridiculous-sounding Mamallapuram), were manifold. First, there were municipal elections in Madras this weekend, and before they happened, there was a lot of to-do about how chaotic they were gonna be. The government even deployed about 100,000 army reservists and retired policemen to quell any potential violence, but there were still instances of "booth-capturing" between the AIADMK and the DMK, which are the two rival Tamil parties, which used to be one, but split sort of bitterly in the 1970's. So I came here to escape that drama. Also, I've finally got the stomach-thrashing I expected from food cooked in the local water (I'm gonna call it "Ghandi's Revenge," after Rajiv Ghandi, who was assassinated here by the Tamil Tigers in the early 1990's), and I needed some R&R. It's been good for me. And finally, I have no work to do until Monday because the weekend has been one big holiday, even for NGO workers, also because of the elections.

Mahabalipuram is a true tourist town... It's the first time I've not been the only white person in a mile's radius for about two weeks, now, but that has meant high hotel prices (in India that means like $7 a night) and constant tourist cat-calls from local shop owners.

It's also a town of many faces...

Cattle faces...



Masseuse faces...

Mahabalipuram is a center of "Ayurvedic" massage (everything here is some kinda "-vedic," for example - Dhruv told me that in school he learned this really cool set of multiplication algorithms or "mantras" that he called "vedic math." I'm not sure exactly what it has to do with the Vedas, the Hindu Holy books, if anything at all.), which means, as far as I could tell after my hour-long full-body rub, that a smelly middle-aged guy rubs you with WAY too much oil, doesn't get any of the cricks out of your neck that you ask him to, and sends you home for a shower. Still, it was pleasant enough. Never had a full-body massage before.

There are lots of stone sculptors. This town is known primarily for them. They all sculpt the same things -- Hindu gods and a few animals -- but they are really high quality and sometimes impressively huge in size. You can get a king-sized Ganesh the Elephant God statue that requires helicopter airlift to get it out.



There are also several "colleges" of sculptors where the locals train to be expert chippers and chisellers, even though they all claim to be 7th- or 9th-generation born artists. Here are some ornery-looking geezers in a student-run cooperative gallery. I bought a small figurine of Saraswathi, who we'll meet later in this post, playing a veena, which is like a south Indian sitar, and which I'm going to buy at some point in the next few weeks.



Later I went on a walk to visit the rock-carvings and cave-temples that dot the hills just outside of town. It's actually like one big park, and all the carvings are from about the 4th century A.D., and they were really spectacular.

Here's an example, along with the dude (Allanda was his name, or something that sounded like that) who weaselled his way into being my tourguide in exchange for me going to the damn sculptor's college and buying a figurine...



This isn't a carving, but it's called "Vishnu's Butterball," and it's pretty cool...



Here's a shrine to Ganesh inside one of the carved temples...



Here's the temple...



Here are 10 incarnations of Vishnu, the Creator and Healer, who is, incidentally, my homeboy...



Here's Shiva Nataraja, which means in Hindi "Shiva Cuttin' Rug," of whom I am a devotee...



more carvings...

And here is the "monkey temple," which is on top of a hill in the middle of the park...



I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "But Robbie, where are the damn monkeys?"

And the answere is they are here, on the road to the lighthouse...



MONKEYS:








Allanda, after showing me the monkeys, one of whom tried to steal my water bottle (he was dealt with swiftly and mercilessly), took me on a long walk back to the studio, which included lots of butterflies...



And passed by this pleasant scene, which shows a little schoolhouse, where children come to pray and learn in the morning with the help of Hindu teachers. The red and yellow dyes are auspicious, I'm told, and the trident is a symbol my boy Shiva the Destroyer and the Virile.



In front of it was a shrine to Saraswathi, goddess of learning. The red dye on top is meant to be taken and painted on the body, which solves the mystery of where Hindu forehead-dots come from. You can all breathe freely now.



And then there's the Shore Temple, which is the most famous site in Mahabalipuram. It's an example of Pallava architecture, also from the late 4th century, and I heard a rumor that there are 6 or 7 more like it under the water a little ways out to sea.





Statues of cows along the outside walls...



The other big archaeological site is the Five Rathas, which are five amazingly-carved temples shaped like chariots. They are all carved from one enormous piece of continuous sandstone...



This family thought I was cute...



The Arjuna Ratha (Arjuna, from the Mahabaratha, yeah, you know him... his chariot)


After seeing all that junk, I was tired, so I watched the stars come out on the beach, which is dotted with lots of very picturesque fishing boats, not unlike the beach town I visited in Portugal





Some of them donated by Catholic Relief Services after the Tsunami. There are other boats, in other villages near here, that were donated by American Jewish World Service, my current employer/sponsor...



And then, some grilled prawns at a seaside restaurant. Seafood here is TASE-TEE. Wish I had the appetite to eat it. Damn you, Rajiv Ghandi.



Washed down with my new favorite drink, fresh-squeezed lime juice with a touch of sugar, mixed with soda by the waiter at your table...



Delicious.