After the usual dispute at the friendly, neighbourhood petrol bunk - they fill 200 when I pay 2000 - I was finally out and on the road. I had decided that Lepakshi, that I had read about a couple of weeks ago and hadn't gotten around to visiting was the ideal destination. So in good faith and trusting that traffic early morning on a Sunday would hardly be a bother, I headed down M G Road, only to find, large posters announcing the Bangalore Marathon. Bangalore's worthies had chosen the very day of my Awakening, to do their annual constituional! There were all these fit, and some not-so-fit souls, full of the grit and gumption I can never find, doing 42km with a lot of sweat and toil. Unfortunate side-effect of otherwise worthy cause - a 20 min traffic holdup near Cubbon Park.
Moving on, I finally hit a marathon-free zone somewhere after Hebbal flyover (I remember a tiger on 2 legs, running the marathon with a placard that said "Save Nature"). After that, there was the wonderful NH7, one of the nicest roads around these parts - a superb drive at an optimal 100-110kays, the wind in my hair, Floyd in the car - all the way to the Andhra border. Crossing over into avakkai country, I enquired at the Anantpur checkpost for "Lepakshi?" to be told - just take the left right there. In their friendliest manner, the flunkies at the checkpost also saddled me with their local RTO officer, telling me "drop saar, madaem, going Hindupur". Once the obviously uncomfortable Babu realised, I wasn't the chatty types, he stayed silent, only to surface near a rail-head saying "staap pleaase, i am going".
A few more queries in Telugu, and I finally saw a huge, monolithic Nandi statue and knew I had gotten there. A turn from the main road, through an arch and I was parking near the Veerabhadra swamy temple. Unlike most temples, that don't let you do photographs easily, the ASI and the government have put up a notice here saying that cameras are allowed in the external part of the temple. Up a flight of steps, and you are greeted with a main entrance, that the architect envisaged as grand, but is now only an unfinished stump.
Enter and you realise that this is no ordinary temple complex. Every conceivable style around that time and before (im guessing 10th-15th century AD), has been incorporated. It is so many unbelieavably beautiful sculptures, one doesn't know where to begin. Exactly the reason to hire a guide! There are a few available, who can do it in English, Telugu and Kannada. Along with a family of Tams that was also visiting, I hired a guide who could talk in fluent English. He explained the history of the temple and how Virupana, the vision behind this, got executed by his king, after tales spread of Lepakshi's growing grandeur.The first courtyard is flanked on all four sides by long pillared walkways, adorned with some amazing sculptures, some religious and some depicting the life of those times - each walkway roof was adorned with paintings, now long gone. Going around to the back of the temple, our guide took us to a corner, sheltered spot and pointed out to a nearby hillock. "Watch tower", he proudly told us. On that hillock stood a smallish structure, looking over directly to the temple courtyard. This was the lookout in the olden days and the moment the guards saw any danger, they would light a torch or shout from the watch tower. Ingenious indeed.
Moving on, turning a corner, we saw the most adorable Ganesha sitting placidly, showering blessings on passers by. The next eye-catcher is the sculpture of Nagalingeshwara, a lingam resting amidst the folds of a giant, serpent. Undeniably powerful, this fantastic image is a monolith. Entering the inner courtyard, we were confronted with a hall with no roof! This apparently was the Wedding Hall, that was to be the cynosure of all eyes - the Who's Who of the ancient pantheon has put in an appearance here. Sadly, it is now a set of desolate pillars, some leaning against one another for much needed comfort.
Advancing through an arch, we come to the Dancing hall, where we find a divine orchestra - all performing in obvious joy and merriment. The Ashtadikpaalakas (pardon my spellings), each one weilding his favourite instrument, perform to the delight of Siva & Parvathi. Our guide, in the manner of a magician, suddenly said "Look up" and I obeyed, only to be astounded. Row after row of the most delicate murals - scenes from the Mahabharata, Shiva Purana modified to suit the local fashionistas - somehow surviving rampaging monarchs and modern camera flashes. The ones in the interior are the best preserved and if they are anything to go by, the people of the 1500s must have been one fantastic looking lot!Straight ahead is the garba griha with the idol of Veerabhadra, a sword-clad warrior god. A quick archana and a history of the temple later, we were back outside, wondering anew at the effort and mechanics of painting on the ceiling (mind you, its a flat roof, not the Sistine Chapel). I kept going back to the wedding hall, a place that seemed symbolic of Lepakshi. Inspite of the obvious attempt at grandeur, one could not but help feeling that such a mishmash of styles, if completed, might have had the opposite effect indeed!
Lepakshi, is strangely empty, most other temples I have been exposed to (even the ones which get like 2 people a week), are alive. This little town, with its tragic story of an ambition demolished, seemed to be flat and even dead. But its still worth visiting - I will probably go again - just to remind ourselves that there are places where time stays still...hurts are unwashed...and the stones still weep for a completion they will never achieve. Oh yes - its a great photo-op, but I think my pics reflect what I felt.
