On that first glorious day of riding, I traveled about 150k, and when the sun started to dim in the late afternoon, my beautiful Royal Enfield let out a loud pop that sounded like a gunshot, shut down, grew quiet and rolled to a stop as I gingerly steered her off the road onto the dirt. I looked backward and forward along the road. It seemed to be an incredible expression of the concept of nowhere. I should have seen this coming too - idiot.
One thing about India that everyone knows is that there are a lot of people. So many, in fact, that even when stranded in the middle of nowhere, one will find themselves surrounded by 10 - 15 Indian men within a matter of minutes. Two in particular who had rolled up on a much younger Japanese made bike - a bike that looked as though it had been modeled after a wasp, or some other insect - were concerned about my breakdown and tried to help me figure out what the problem was. Te engine column was very hot. We checked the oil and it was very low. After enough time had passed and the engine had cooled sufficiently we got the bike started again and I made the short distance to the petrol station just over the hill. I filled the bike with oil and then took off, confident and happy that the problem had been so easily fixed. About one kilometer down the road she stalled again. I was starting to worry. The same two Indians on the same Japanese bike rolled up again.
“Complaint again?”
“Yep.”
One of them had a brother who apparently lived a little ways back and told me that I could get a good deal on room. I agreed and after waiting longer for the engine to cool, taking some chai at a small rest stop, we turned back north on NH-17 and then turned off west. We stopped shortly and I was introduced to the man’s brother - David. He took his brother’s bike and I followed him to what I assumed would be a small coastal town. After a moment or two of riding I looked up ahead in the distance and muttered to myself. Holy shit. Silhouetted by the big falling sun was a huge temple tat towered into the sky. I had seen one much like it in Hampi, but the lines of this temple were so crisp and it was far taller. As we approached, something else, behind the temple came into view. The dark shape of Shive sat ust behind the temple. When I grew nearer, I realized the seated statue of Shiva, pristine and painted, must be at least 150 feet tall if not 200.
I looked back in wonder and awe as David led me south down along the beach road. He negotiated a price with one of the local tourist home owners and after dropping my stuff and changing, I ran into the water and floated there in the cool Arabian sea as I gazed up at the gargantuan Shiva sitting with his back to the setting sun. After a quick cool off, I ran back to my room to shower and change as David said he would return to give me a tour of the temple.
I was confused as I looked at the temple on our approach. The temple had immaculate lines, edges that were sharp, completely unlike any of the temples I had seen thus far in India. David quickly told me why. The temple was brand new - less than 5 years old. A very wealthy man in construction who had started in this area as a relatively poor business man had commissioned it and work was still being done.
David and I took an elevator inside the temple to the very top where a spectacular view of the sun, blood pink, was beginning to set just behind Shiva’s head. Afterwards David took me on a tour of the religious complex below the Shiva statue.
The tour was through a narrow winding corridor, that had on one side huge niches that contained a sculpted scene from the creation myth of the place that I had stumbled across. Life-size painted statues filled these separate scenes depicting critical moments in the story. It told of a man named Rama who was asked by his mother to obtain the soul of Shiva. Rama set out on his quest, mastering meditation and attempting to prove to Shiva that he was worthy of his presence. The gods realized what Rama was up to and attempted to divert his efforts. They sent Cali in the form of a beautiful woman to distract Rama. He married her, but when he brought her home to his mother, Rama’s mother wept seeing that her son had not delivered the soul of Shiva. Rama doubled his efforts and took up his meditation once again. As an expression of his success and the power that Rama’s meditation brought him, he is depicted as having ten arms and ten heads. After Rama had spent much time attempting to gain Shiva’s presence he became dismayed and angry, he began to tear off his arms and his heads. When Shiva saw Rama doing this he came down and visited Rama. Rama then obtained the soul of Shiva, exactly how he did this, I’m not all that clear on. Shortly after gaining the soul of Shiva, however, Rama (for whatever reason) had to go for a swim. Rama asked a small man who was passing by if he would look after the soul of Shiva while he went for a swim. The small man was actually the god Ganesh in disguise. Ganesh told Rama that if he counted past three and Rama was not back he would leave with the soul of Shiva. Rama went for a swim and returned just as Ganesh was leaving. Seeing that he was planning to leave Rama, angry hit him on the head and magically the small man was revealed as the god Ganesh. Whether Rama was angry at this deception, or for some other reason, I do not know, but Rama with all his strength took the soul of Shiva and ripped it into 7 different pieces and scattered them along the coast. A town was founded around each of the pieces. The temple where David had taken me and where I learned of this myth was one of the resting places for a piece of Shiva’s soul.
One thing about India that everyone knows is that there are a lot of people. So many, in fact, that even when stranded in the middle of nowhere, one will find themselves surrounded by 10 - 15 Indian men within a matter of minutes. Two in particular who had rolled up on a much younger Japanese made bike - a bike that looked as though it had been modeled after a wasp, or some other insect - were concerned about my breakdown and tried to help me figure out what the problem was. Te engine column was very hot. We checked the oil and it was very low. After enough time had passed and the engine had cooled sufficiently we got the bike started again and I made the short distance to the petrol station just over the hill. I filled the bike with oil and then took off, confident and happy that the problem had been so easily fixed. About one kilometer down the road she stalled again. I was starting to worry. The same two Indians on the same Japanese bike rolled up again.
“Complaint again?”
“Yep.”
One of them had a brother who apparently lived a little ways back and told me that I could get a good deal on room. I agreed and after waiting longer for the engine to cool, taking some chai at a small rest stop, we turned back north on NH-17 and then turned off west. We stopped shortly and I was introduced to the man’s brother - David. He took his brother’s bike and I followed him to what I assumed would be a small coastal town. After a moment or two of riding I looked up ahead in the distance and muttered to myself. Holy shit. Silhouetted by the big falling sun was a huge temple tat towered into the sky. I had seen one much like it in Hampi, but the lines of this temple were so crisp and it was far taller. As we approached, something else, behind the temple came into view. The dark shape of Shive sat ust behind the temple. When I grew nearer, I realized the seated statue of Shiva, pristine and painted, must be at least 150 feet tall if not 200.
I looked back in wonder and awe as David led me south down along the beach road. He negotiated a price with one of the local tourist home owners and after dropping my stuff and changing, I ran into the water and floated there in the cool Arabian sea as I gazed up at the gargantuan Shiva sitting with his back to the setting sun. After a quick cool off, I ran back to my room to shower and change as David said he would return to give me a tour of the temple.
I was confused as I looked at the temple on our approach. The temple had immaculate lines, edges that were sharp, completely unlike any of the temples I had seen thus far in India. David quickly told me why. The temple was brand new - less than 5 years old. A very wealthy man in construction who had started in this area as a relatively poor business man had commissioned it and work was still being done.
David and I took an elevator inside the temple to the very top where a spectacular view of the sun, blood pink, was beginning to set just behind Shiva’s head. Afterwards David took me on a tour of the religious complex below the Shiva statue.
The tour was through a narrow winding corridor, that had on one side huge niches that contained a sculpted scene from the creation myth of the place that I had stumbled across. Life-size painted statues filled these separate scenes depicting critical moments in the story. It told of a man named Rama who was asked by his mother to obtain the soul of Shiva. Rama set out on his quest, mastering meditation and attempting to prove to Shiva that he was worthy of his presence. The gods realized what Rama was up to and attempted to divert his efforts. They sent Cali in the form of a beautiful woman to distract Rama. He married her, but when he brought her home to his mother, Rama’s mother wept seeing that her son had not delivered the soul of Shiva. Rama doubled his efforts and took up his meditation once again. As an expression of his success and the power that Rama’s meditation brought him, he is depicted as having ten arms and ten heads. After Rama had spent much time attempting to gain Shiva’s presence he became dismayed and angry, he began to tear off his arms and his heads. When Shiva saw Rama doing this he came down and visited Rama. Rama then obtained the soul of Shiva, exactly how he did this, I’m not all that clear on. Shortly after gaining the soul of Shiva, however, Rama (for whatever reason) had to go for a swim. Rama asked a small man who was passing by if he would look after the soul of Shiva while he went for a swim. The small man was actually the god Ganesh in disguise. Ganesh told Rama that if he counted past three and Rama was not back he would leave with the soul of Shiva. Rama went for a swim and returned just as Ganesh was leaving. Seeing that he was planning to leave Rama, angry hit him on the head and magically the small man was revealed as the god Ganesh. Whether Rama was angry at this deception, or for some other reason, I do not know, but Rama with all his strength took the soul of Shiva and ripped it into 7 different pieces and scattered them along the coast. A town was founded around each of the pieces. The temple where David had taken me and where I learned of this myth was one of the resting places for a piece of Shiva’s soul.
No comments:
Post a Comment