Nikhil's Musings

Dear Amitabhji

Nikhil — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 05:47:53 +0000

Dear Shri. Amitabh Bachchan,

Now that Govt. of Kerala has responded positively to your interest in becoming the brand ambassador of Kerala Tourism, my respect for your acting skills has gone up. You are a great actor.

We all know how much you love Gujarat and the people there. You may have forgotten what you said. Modi will not have. “There are lots of good things in Gujarat which should be promoted. I am ready to give my voice and face for the promotion of Gujarat tourism.” I did not say this.

Your favourite state was UP. That was years back.

Now that’s Gujarat. Fair enough. A visit to Kerala and dress up in a mundu, a smear of sandal wood paste on the forehead and some good words about Malayalees. You floored the media. Mission successful. A repeat of your Modi love with necessary changes in attire.

And this is what you said to Manorama News recently.

Check {0:14 to 0:27}

You are a winner. Any day.

Sir,Pawan Kumar Chamling is doing an excellent job in Sikkim. Think about appearing before the media in ‘pagi’ and expressing the willingness to endorse Sikkim tourism. Don’t you think you can relate to the teachings of Buddhism. Don’t you love the Kanchenjunga. You can do it, Mr. Bachchan. Go for it. Good luck.

Regards

Nikhil

——

Read at leisure: 1 2 Watch at leisure 1

Mayawati suffers PMS, announces manifesto

Signs of the times

Nikhil — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 06:12:28 +0000

Nelson Mandela would never know that I had signed on a paper to free him from prison. I did not know how to sign. Nor did I know Nelson Mandela. No. I actually did know him. He was all over the newspapers then.

The whole class assembled under the shade of a tree. Someone started a song, “Mandela Mandela, Nelson Mandela..”. We shouted those words at the top of our voices. Manjula teacher, my class teacher in Class III asked all of us to write our names against the numbers. That was a signature campaign- the first I participated in. Empowerment, ego massage and such happened. You may call it by any name. It may not have been willingly; I did not have a choice. That was the first time I put my signature.

No. Not really. Two years before this,the same teacher had made us start savings a/c in the nearest SBT. All of us had to give her Rs.5. She did the rest. Signatures were ours. That passbook is still a prized posession.

We were growing up. Writing with pen was no longer a luxury and was officially permitted. Hours were spent testing every Hero pen. Signature was used heavily to smoothen the nib and also to kill time. Going back to signature campaigns, I tried one such along with Sajith. This was to impeach a friend who was then the school deputy pupil leader. We managed signatures of many kids. We were in XI. VI or VII class kids were very sweet. Signatures were just chocolates away. That campaign had a premature death. Rather, was killed by Jaggu, the acting Principal. We failed to understand why she could not be impeached. Jaggu did not believe in democracy. What other reason can I think of for threatening to suspend us?

1989 was marked the centenary celebrations of Nehru’s birth. Our text books had a few lines on(by) Jawaharlal Nehru. His initials were my favorite. The J and H connected by a loop and an inclined line that fell backward. Many a bottles of Chelpark were spent on these initials. There was Gandhiji’s Talisman too in our books. I had no clue what a Talisman meant. His signature was tough to copy.

I didn’t have to forge dad’s signature to get Progress Reports signed. Throwing tantrums after dad left for work was enough to acquiesce mom to signing. In fact, there was one instance when I had to put dad’s signature. It was the last day to send the CBSE Medical Entrance application and dad was out of town. I had to.

Apart from this, I would have practiced a lot on RN Malhotra’s signature in Hindi. During the times when I started noticing RBI Governor’s signatures on currency notes, it was this gentleman all over. Ra Na Malhotra was an interesting signature to attempt in Hindi. The lower denomination notes (Re 1, Rs 2) had Finance Secretary’s signature. Manmohan Singh was still in circulation.

From simply writing my name to finding the best N from calligraphy books, the sign has come a long way. Deciding between dotted and circular tittles or the choice of using my second name or part thereof, confusions have been plenty. This change can’t be done overnight. If you do, your next credit card purchase may be annulled for suspected fraud.

Letters after my name

Nikhil — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 14:17:12 +0000

It was yet another very ordinary day in school. I was in class VII. It was lunch break time. When my class teacher asked me to go collect a letter that had come in my name,my excitement just grew beyond what I could handle. Food was not what was important. I ran into the Staff Room.

Alas, it was just a post card. It was a returned letter. Damn you!, Manorama year book. How could the French Consulate’s Chennai address given in it be wrong? My post card asking for tourist brochures and such colorful sheets for a Social Studies project boomeranged. Ya, I know that a boomerang *reaches* the target and then returns,whatever.

The US Consultate address in the year book was not wrong. They sent me loads of information. Yes, loads of information indeed. On history,politics,the presidential campaign(Bill Clinton was running for POTUS then), maps and lots more. That was the time when I learnt that mailing embassies and consulates was the easiest way to handle these school projects.

Those were the days when postcards meant the 15ps ones and not the Rs 2 worth Competition Post Cards. Like many others of my generation, I did play a huge part in the introduction of Competition Post Cards. Who can blame us for sending replies to Siddharth Kak and Renuka Shahane,every week,without fail.

This is much after I started writing letters to companies, and responding to all the contests that came in newspapers and magazines.

Respond to every single contest that comes my way be it in a newspaper or on a product wrapper. Not just contests, I was slightly overboard about writing letters to these companies.

My ideas as a kid was, oh-my-god-my-name-has-reached-[any City]. So, I replied to contests; my name went to Madras,Bombay,New Delhi and beyond. Some sent token gifts like key chains,caps and such.

There used to be this puzzle that came as a newspaper insert. An easy puzzle for any school going kid. Many boxes, many numbers. Fill in to make the sum same diagonally, row/column-wise etc. The prize for this one came by VPP, I never accepted that. Oh yes, it used to be a TV but had to pay some ‘nominal charges’ to receive the prize. That would have been a huge box with trash, I am sure. The prize came from Ahmedabad.

How can I forget those Otto Burlington magazines which had suggest friends [Addresee Pays] cards and I could easily make Otto Burlington send those magazines to all my cousins and neighbours.

And those Reader’s Digest forms. Suggest 20(?) more people and get a Handbook of Word Origins for free, or one of such books. Again, many neighbors actually fell for the letters that read “N Narayanan has suggested your name” and subscribred to RD hoping to win prizes. The prizes were blocks of gold. All you need to subscribe to RD was to stick that *Yes* stamp and send the letter back. VPP was RD’s favorite too.

The earliest of such letters was to Home Lites. They were the ones who brought out huge match boxes, twice as big as a pencil box. I somehow felt their match sticks sparked before they lit up. I was in class III then. I told this to dad. He asked me to write a letter to them. I did. I distinctly remember the four-lined-note book, the Class Work as they used to call then. I tore a sheet from that to send a letter to an adddress that had Wimco Matches and Ballard Estate in that. No, I did not Google this now. Did I say that I wrote the letter with pencil? They never replied.

I was always curious to know the “Made in” and manufacturing and expiry dates of products. That I still do. It was when I noticed that a biscuit pack had manufacturing date from the future, I realized that the whole point of dates were idiotic. I don’t recollect the brand; was that Bakeman? It was during the Mahabharata days and this brand’s TVC had Gufi Paintal in it as Shakuni. I remember writing to them. Completely forgot if they replied or not.

Then, that Maggi Club membership I managed after sending a few wrappers. The Candico guys who wished me on my birthday and asked me for suggestions. No body told me they were surveys. The hundreds of contests in Balarama and Tinkle…Learning the word ‘early bird’ from these contests…The card that Eveready sent me with autographs of the Indian team sometime around the B&H World cup ‘92…

Talking about contests, how can forget the H,M,T and dots on Re1 coins. You collect 1 each of H,M andT and 2 coins with dots to win an HMT watch. Not sure if someone ever won a watch. The exchange 5 empty (Milma) milk packets for a lucky draw coupon to win a truck load of gold offer,aah!. The immense effort in convincing mom to chuck Kannan Devan and buy AVT Tea for the Swarnadhara Coupons inside. The surprise element in opening the packet. The discount of Rs 2 or 5 that I eventually ended up with. Those days.

I kept writing letters. Letters to newspapers and magazines. Some were published. Some weren’t worthy of.

Update: I completely forgot about the Goldspot, Thums Up and Limca bottle cap collections, the collection of plastic animals that came free with Cibaca etc. This post was more like a memory test, and so my failure in recollecting these things are way more than pardonable.

PS: Malayala Manorama dated 3rd Jan,2010 printed some words written by me. Online edition

PPS: If number matter in this world, then this is published post #200.

Travel:Darjeeling,Gangtok and Nathula

Nikhil — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 03:46:35 +0000

[Warning- Very lengthy post. Read at leisure. Free to take breaks]

It was just past 8am. Siliguri was waking up. Through the chaos of the town,the intermittent stench, and the tea gardens,we started our drive up hill. The narrow roads to the foothills of Shivalik were intertwined all along by railway lines(Darjeeling Himalayan Railway). Roads on the rail or rails on the road? They seemed like a series of mating serpents.The roads were typical of any hilly area. Green on either sides, steep curves, uphills almost right,streams, rivulets, culverts, ravines and many gorges that seemed endless.

These narrow roads were punctuated by villages. Kids in their winter wear were on their way to school. Many had their books open, brushing up that last bit before that day’s exam. Presenting a clear picture of their want for a separate state,the Gorkhaland boards ushered us into Darjeeling. The message was loud and clear. Every single door had this board,be it a shop or a house. The writings on the walls spoke about allegiance to India but separation from West Bengal. Vehicles with GL registration surprised me initially, then I came to terms with a novel form of protest. The blue colored train just meandered past us joyfully spitting tonnes of smoke,oblivious of the Al Gores and Copenhagens of the world.

Darjeeling-Train

We were soon in Darjeeling.The quaint town discovered by two British agents, with its cobbled streets and bungalows lets you experience remnants of the Victorian past. The streets in the market take their own turns and go up hill at their whims. Selling mostly winter wear and memorabilia, this market closes way early that one could imagine. Just past 5 and it’s late and dark in Darjeeling. Don’t miss to walk in to to a bakery and have some out of the world pastries. The weather has made shop keepers nonchalant and disinterested in selling- I noticed this.
First a little chilly and soon it is gives you a frozen experience. At 6pm, you are left with no option but reach your hotel room and surf channels.

Darjeeling-Market

Invisible man? Darjeeling-Market

Early in the morning we were off to watch the sunrise at Tiger Hills. Bah! Sunrise, what’s so invigorating about a sunrise, this was my first reaction. A detour from Ghum/Ghoom railway station takes you uphill to Tiger Hills. 4:15am. It’s pitch dark. You are approached(No,leave your dirty thoughts aside) by women selling coffee/tea at this hour. They trudge all the way uphill to sell coffee /tea to tourists. Give them money for the effort,even more for the tea.

A large crowd waiting on the ground and many waiting a level above. All waiting to see a sunrise. From the enclosure(a level above),all you can hear is a crowd singing what seemed like folk songs; you are blinded by the innumerable flashes clicked. Reaching early helped us get a window for a perfect window for the sunrise. But,still I was sure of this exercise being a dull , waste of time created to fool tourists. I was wrong as usual.

Darjeeling-Sunrise

Kanchenjunga from Darjeeling

Darjeeling-Sunrise

Kanchenjunga from Darjeeling, minutes after the above pic

On your right, the sun slowly appears above the horizon. The golden rays slyly sneaking out. The darkness was giving way to many shades of orange. Though unwillingly,the blue sky was accepting the unwelcome golden rays. Within minutes, a glow appears on a mountain range on your left. The Sun beaming in glory on your right, mercilessly outshone by the sheen of the Kanchenjunga on your left. The Kanchenjunga that appeared drab in those black and white pictures in my school Geography text book,was vivid and resplendent here, enjoying every moment of the attention she got. Unfazed by the clouds’ attempts to mask her brilliance,this white beauty’s radiant smile left us in love with her.

***

That was my first visit to any Buddhist Monastery,the visit to Samten Choling. Buddha inside was showing some displeasure over his photographs being clicked. Irreverence that is,right? I used the opportunity to rotate the prayer cylinders(?) assuming that would wipe out all my sins; have seen monks doing this on Discovery Channel though I don’t know the reason.

The Batasia Loop where the Darjeeling trains take a U turn and the Gurkha Memorial are situated on a hillock that promises a panoramic view of the town. Isn’t it a sacrilege to miss the visit to a tea estate when in Darjeeling? A foggy morning.A gentle breeze.The golden rays of the sun.A whole valley covered with tea plantations.The leaves are just freshening up,trying to clear the mist on them. The intoxicating aroma of a cup of tea takes your senses to a newer high. The taste is heavenly.The whole experience is suddenly a notch above bliss.

The Tibetan Refugee camp resonates the hope of an oppressed community,living away from their homeland. An old printing press which printed their voices of angst and anger,of freedom and liberation lies as a testimony to an eventful past. Many items made by these refugees were for sale at the camp.

We easily skipped the Darjeeling zoo as we did not expect much there. Trivandrum zoo is awesome,you know! The famous rope-way was in disuse after an accident some years back,we were told. The St Paul’s school,North Point where Main Hoo Na was shot looked like a picture post card silhouetted against the Kanchenjunga.

It was time to move on from Gorkhaland. Those flags in green,white and yellow had to be bade adieu.

The roads were much better. BRO’s Project Swastik was doing a great job. The life line of Sikkim,Teesta was spotted already. We were just entering Sikkim. The Teesta river was gushing at her full might on our side. The ravines were deep,scary to look into. Oblivious of her surroundings,unmitigated by the rocks,she was flowing as if she would get late for her date with the Brahmaputra. On our way,deep down under we saw her being joined by Rangeet. Two shades of green merging to form a different shade of green. The greens interrupted by the rocks and froth did not reduce her beauty even by a bit. On one side, the river deep in a gorge, taking it’s own course, on the other the rocks sniggering at the river in a show of dominance. Was she green in envy? at whom? the mighty Himalayas that fathered her?

Road to Gantok

Beautiful Teesta at the Sangam

The Teesta

Villages came one after the other. The terrain was slowly changing. The breathtaking views continued. Marigolds,sunflowers and many other flowers lead me through the land of Teesta.Lush green paddy fields enjoyed the beauty and adorned her banks. We were crossing Rangpo. Indian Army presence could be spotted at irregular intervals. From the foothills,we were on our way up the Himalayas. On the banks of Teesta and even little upwards, I was surprised to find Banana plants and other vegetation seen in tropics.

On the foot hills of the Shivalik ranges, Gangtok welcomes you with it’s pleasant weather,peaceful roads and drool worthy chicken momos. Like I had tweeted, chicken momos were one of the reasons why Sikkim was annexed to the Indian union. The spotless capital city wins hands down for the cleanliness. The MG Marg can easily pass off as a European street with its cobbled streets ,flowers,Victorian street lamps and those ornate benches. Most parts of this road is exclusively for pedestrians. The lights make the fountain and the Gandhiji statue look magnificent after sunset. The Lall Marg adjacent to it reminds you of the Darjeeling market, with the same ups and downs minus a little chaos. We walked into a building off MG Marg,that housed a vegetable market. The cleanliness that we saw outside was missing here. It was like any other vegetable market and the paan stains on the stairs affirmed the fact that order and chaos can exist next to each other. The buildings in Gantok were strikingly similar in shape,cuboidal. The easiest job here could be that of an architect,probably.

Gantok

Gangtok-MG Marg

Nathula(14200 FT) is 52 Km from Gangtok. The earlier roads were narrow. Roads barely existed on the JN Marg that connected Nathula to Gantok. A stretch full of stones and boulders,rubble and dust, dotted with villages and Army establishments. We were on a pathway interrupted by landslides at nature’s whims and fancies. Ravines on the right were so deep that looking into it was enough for your heart to skip not one but a dozen beats. On the left, the mountain walls displayed many textures,patterns and shapes-all signs of human intervention. Work under BRO’s Swastik project was in full swing. Army convoys and JCBs appeared to create traffic jams.

Kanchenjunga,near Nathula

The road to Nathula

Clouds had decided to shed their beauty and be shapeless. The confused clouds cozily placed themselves next to each other. These are the times when you realize that white and blue are siblings.The sky was painted with not just one,but many hues of blue. Those coniferous trees high school geography taught me were now here,or it was now easier to realize that the vegetation was coniferous. Those long white patches on the greens were streams and rivulets mellowed down by the freezing cold.

A few km up and we were at about 12600 feet above the sea level. We took a detour from what seemed like a base camp and headed to Baba Harbhajan Sigh’s bunker. The base camp had a Baba Mandir which apparently was built for the convenience of the visitors(“duplicate” as per our driver). The original one and the bunker were about 6km away from here.

We saw her again. The same Kanchenjunga that gleamed in glory two mornings before was at her stunning best. She was trying to shoo away the clouds that tried to mask her beauty. The ravishing beauty,majestic in her demeanor was standing tall to touch the skies. What? Did I just spot snow on the rocks? I grabbed a lump of snow from the rocks. The only other place I did this was from the refrigerator’s freezer.

After visiting Baba’s bunker that had his belongings and the original Baba Mandir there, we headed back to 12600 feet base camp. This place had an ATM(yes!) and a few shops. From here, we started our journey to a place that mattered much in history, a point on the Old Silk Route. Nathula.

Through the gate that said “Nathula”,we walked up the stairs. On the right side was a photography prohibited area,a few metres from there was the Indian Army post. We were at a place that looked more like the portico of one of the two buildings. Behind me was a building with the tricolor proudly fluttering,bringing out the Indian in each one of us.

I was standing in front of a building with excess of red,golden pillars and a star on its forehead,something that took my mind straight to the AKG Bhavan in Trivandrum. I walked close to it and hey! what am I seeing? There is a fence. Err, so that is C-H-I-N-A. That was China! Within minutes,three nattily dressed young Chinese soldiers came close to the fence, one of them smoking and clicking his camera nonstop. He had decided to get pictures of every single young lady on the Indian side. None of our rules apply to him, he is on the other side. Different rules,different timezones,different language,all together a different world. How much can a small fence do.

Soon,the Chinese soldiers shed their initial indifference and started posing for photos with the Indian tourists. Camaraderie was evident in the air in the way the Indian and Chinese soldiers interacted. How different was it was for them than working in two different teams? The soldiers on either side of the fence were ready to pose for photos, but refused to shake hands. A trip to Nathula was never complete without breaking a piece of rock from the memorabilia stone. And boy!, that hammer was HEAVY.

In the midst of all these photographs, I managed to sneak my hand to the other side of the fence. Yes, I did that. That was touching Chinese soil. What else can give you a high when you are on the border?

Outside Baba's bunker

At Nathula

We left the BRO slogans, the Army’s Hum Hi Jitenge | Mera Bharat Mahaan lines and started our drive down hill to Gangtok. Passing many snow capped buildings behind us,we were coming down from a high point in our lives. We passed the Sherathang market, about 5 km from Nathula. I spotted Dongfeng trucks in the market;may be they came in with goods from across the border. The Tsongmo Lake (also called Changu Lake or Tsomgo Lake) was calm and beautiful. The Yak owners were shouting to strike a deal to take us for a ride on those animals. Yaks, to my surprise seemed so harmless.

Visibility was almost zilch. Sun suffered from a bout of inferiority complex and hid himself. Our driver seemed undaunted with the zero visibility. The headlights pierced through the darkness. The nonstop horn seemed to show him the road. We were soon in Gangtok for our next round of Chicken momos. It would be unfair not to mention those hundreds of smiles I got back for every eye contact that I made, irrespective of gender or age; immensely friendly and pleasant locals bring in a smile on our faces.

My tweets during this trip

Photo credits- Nikhil Narayanan, Bharat Narayanan

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Capital disaster

Nikhil — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 16:57:36 +0000

What happened to you was quite unfortunate. I would not have known you that early had it not happened to you. Even years later, I skipped a beat when I met someone from you. When I read about you in school,the event haunted me. I had memorized the cause’s name much before I knew Chemistry(thanks to dad). The first in a series of processes in Organic Chemistry,reminded me of the company which later bought the notorious company. You appeared as an example in chapters on environment. Time eroded your significance; you were not as important as you used to be.

Justice denied.You struggle.You exist.You get some attention every year. That gives you the hope to survive.

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Travelogue:Srirangam and Malai Kottai temples

Nikhil — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 13:47:39 +0000

[Photography was not allowed in many parts of Srirangam Temple and the Thayumunaswamy temple in the MalaiKottai complex,Trichy]

Part-1 can be read here

I was not done with praising the Cholas. The Big Temple hangover lingered somewhere inside my head. After sleeping over the Shaivite era, I headed to Srirangam, the temple town situated about 7km from Trichy. Enough of Shaivite thoughts,over to Vaishnavites.
I knew I was moving towards the largest functioning Hindu temple in the world, spanning over 156 acres;yes! you read those digits right.
I stood in front of the first Gopura.A sense of deja vu; that sight took me to Padmanabha Swamy Temple, Trivandrum.
I was slowly being ushered in by huge wooden gates not just in to a temple, but to a different era, a different civilization. A civilization where everything revolves around one person, the Lord Sri Ranganathaswamy himself.

: Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple, Srirangam

When inside the temple, it takes time to hit you that you are inside one and you are there to pray. You are inside a complex with a multitude of granite structures and enough space for a town to assemble in. You get a feel of what innumerable is when you attempt counting the myriad of gods and goddesses inside the complex.

7 rectangular enclosures/Prakarams(courtyards),the towering Gopurams for each of these Prakarams,those streets with shops and houses,many Mandapams and many many gods. That’s Srirangam Temple for you. Slowly the fact sunk in ; it is not easy for me to cover every nook and corner in a day. I walked inside the complex with my eyes popping out in surprise, mouth agape in astonishment, mind traveling to another era, body trudging from one structure to another.

The temple looked ancient and majestic. The finest examples of South Indian stone sculptures could be seen in the 1000 pillar Mandapam,the Shesharaya Mandapam and the Thirumamani Mandapam. It was here that I saw war/hunting scenes sculpted on pillars with the King,elephants,tiger warriors along. I did notice some Chinese figures in some of the scenes; not sure if they were enemies or they worked for any of the kings’ armies.
The giant enclosure housing the Garuda(inside the 4th parakram) was one of the many structures that would leave your eyes riveted on.

One should appreciate the effort that has gone in maintaining these structures. The scars of time make them look old; they are mute spectators: of the vagaries of nature, of a tumultuous past, of conquerors and wars. This structure witnessed the vicissitudes of time and enjoyed the munificence of the Pallavas,Cholas,Pandyas,Nayaks,Vijayanagara,Hoysala and Marathas. That makes these buildings easily over 1100 years old,at least.

: Can you spot the Chinese?

: Ruins of a wall-Srirangam Temple

Every pillar,every stone, every sculpture effused so much energy. So much that they had a tale to narrate, not that I could understand what they spoke. After about two hours of waiting in a queue that meandered, I had my 4 seconds of darshan. Unlike the 3 door-ed Ananthashayanam at Trivandrum, here a single door was all that was needed to have a glimpse of the lord, in entirety.

I did not like the fact that some parts of the complex were painted; equally loathed the idea of having a white gopuram, that looks white washed. Why would someone clad a beautiful gopuram with white paint?
I could find parts of the temple wall in ruins in one of the corners. Some parts were repaired many more times than I could imagine. I should not be complaining. When it was built, no one would have thought about a structure to stay for eternity.

I am not writing much about the architecture, since there is way too much to cover.Though the earliest inscriptions talk of Parantaka Chola’s grant to buy camphor for the temple,the antiquity could be much dated; to the Pallavas, and much much beyond that.

The Namam symbol was left indelible in my mind for many days. Happens, if you see hundreds of them in a few hours’ span.

Did I say I had heavenly curd rice inside the temple complex? Don’t miss that counter.

***
Our next stop was the Uchi Pillayar(Ganesha) temple or the Rock Fort(Malai Kottai), Trichy. An inconspicuous entrance from a busy street takes you through a lane buzzing with street vendors to ManickaVinayagar temple. From here begins the climb up; 420 steps. After a few minutes of brisk climbing, we reached a landing. On the left was the Thayumanaswamy temple and on the right the way to the Uchi Pillayar temple.

Thayumunaswamy temple is inside a hillock, 83 m high and 3800 Million years old. What? That makes it older than Himalayas! (Oh, ya Himalayas are relatively new. Tethys Ocean , remember school geography?). The dark alleys of the Thayumunaswamy temple refreshes you and gives an out of the world experience. The inscriptions here seemed to be written in a strange convoluted melange of the South Indian languages. The oldest of these inscriptions date back to 3rd C BC; some of them are from the relatively recent 7th C AD Pallava era. The minimal lighting brings in a surreal feeling but does not much help in enjoying the impressive painting of Parvathy on the ceiling. The massive Linga and the wondrous rock architecture is enough to leave you awestruck.

: Malai Kottai-Rock Fort Temple

: Uchai Pillayar-Rock Fort Temple

: Inscriptions at Kudaivarai Koil, Rock Fort (Malai Kottai)

Climbing towards the Uchai Pillayar temple, a nondescript Mandapa like structure on your left, the Kudaivarai Koil has Siva,Parvathi and river Kaveri personified. For a moment I wished I could decipher the inscriptions from the Pallava era (9th C AD). Further up, a panoramic view of Trichy beckons you. The gushing wind caressing your face, swaying your hair. The town lighting up to welcome the twilight. The beautiful Kaveri flowing with her full might. A few steps uphill from here is the Uchai Pillayar temple.

And what did Malayala Manorama do?

Nikhil — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 14:35:14 +0000

There was a tweetup with Dr. Shashi Tharoor a few days back. Manuscrypts wrote about the event. Chupchap followed. That leaved me with nothing much to talk about.

No, you got that wrong. Part of my question to Dr. Tharoor (How difficult is it to work with the Left govt. in bringing development to Trivandrum and is this why Chandran Tharoor Foundation does work that could have been done under the MPLADS?) found a mention in Malayala Manorama, Bangalore ed. dated 7th Nov ‘09. Yes, the report did mention my name, though partially. So, if you can read Malayalam, here it is for you.

Believe me, the Nikhil mentioned is me.

Shashi Tharoor wins

A quarter century later

Nikhil — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 10:51:47 +0000

I came home early from school.Not school, kindergarten. I was not sure why all of us were fetched in the school van much earlier than usual. Aunt was visiting then. Our Prime Minister was shot dead, she told me. I did not realize how big that news was. I was shocked,that is all. It seemed like a big news, from Amma’s and aunt’s reactions. I had seen that old lady’s photographs in papers. I did not know who killed her. I would not have known the word assassination then. Amma tuned in to AIR that confirmed the news,bulletin after bulletin.

It was before we got TV at home, before DD started their Trivandrum station*. Nor did we have a phone to call up friends or relatives and break the news. Somewhere in P&T(or was it DoT then), our application for a connection was lying. I do not remember much from that day. I rocked my cousin’s cradle. I kept rocking till the ropes hit the ceiling fan blades. The baby was safe. Dad scolded me. He had to mend the fan blades. The next day’s newspapers had more of black ink than usual, a lot lot more. Things were going to be different for India,many said.

*Guess, Keltron was operating a DD-esque station then

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Travelogue:Thanjavur and Brihadishwara temple

Nikhil — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 16:12:50 +0000

[Part 1 of the Tanjore/Thanjavur-Srirangam-Trichy travelogue] Part 2 can be read here

Having overloaded myself with information on Tanjore/Thanjavur, I reached the Tanjore Palace in search of all the glory of the old Chola capital.

The 16th century palace complex was built by the Nayaks and later renovated by the Marathas. With very unimpressive looks, the ill maintained complex has parts that unfortunately look more like ruins. The grandeur that the Cholas, Pallavas and Tanjore were synonymous with, was missing here (at least from outside).

Situated close to the Old Bus Stand, the first of the museums I visited here was the Royal Museum. Is this the might and valor of the Cholas I heard of? What am I seeing here, I wondered? A scantily lit room with drums, urns, perfume bottles, wooden boxes, manuscripts, gifts, jewelry, weapons and other belongings of the Marathas. At least once, I felt pity for the exhibits with years of accumulated dirt, that tried to utter words from a glorious past. A 17th century printed Ramayana was one of the exhibits I found worth mentioning.

Exiting and moving on, a painting of a Maratha King welcomes you to the Durbar Hall. The area in front has a canon and a bull. The smell of pigeon excreta near the portrait makes you run into the interiors of the palace, only to take you into empty dark rooms with even worse stench. On the other side of the painting, an array of of Pallava and Chola statues throws light into the craftsmanship of the Pallava and Chola era. Immense amount of solace here.
The Art Gallery has an impressive line up of granite (7th to 17th centuries| Pallava, Chola ,Pandya) and bronze statues(10-18th centuries, Chola, Nayaks,also 7-8th century Natarajas).With details of excavation and century of origin clearly displayed, the Gods, Goddesses and other statues take you to a different era. The magnificent monolithic statues evince energy and life; the aura in their eyes beamed a story of fine craftsmanship and effort. Vishnu, Ganesha or a Nataraja look exactly the same as they look in today’s images and statues. Gods haven’t changed much. I also did notice a Buddha statue from the Pallava era here.

Climbing up the Bell Tower was an interesting exercise, but the multitude of I Love you graffiti throughout the narrow stairs and the storeys were very depressing. A lot can be improved in this palace complex.
After existing the main entrance, further down the road towards the bus stand, stands a the pink colored building on your left. Sharajah Madi, a six storied building built in the Sarcenic style by Raja Serfoji houses the belongings of the Maratha kings. With its spacious halls and grandeur, this palace will remind you nose of the Durbar Hall. The paintings and the embellishments on the roof are sparingly visible in the dark interiors. You may wonder if you mistakenly entered the Maratha kings’ dungeon.

With due respect to the rulers, one could easily conclude that Marathas’ and Nayaks’ efforts here seems very anachronistic in front of the Pallava and Chola splendor.

From the Palace,I headed to Brihadiswara Temple (Built in 1010 AD, 25 years and 275 days after Rajaraja Chola’s ascension to the throne in AD985).Whenever I saw this temple on Discovery and such, I always believed it is the firang’s knee jerk WOWs that created the hype around this place. Alas, I was wrong, terribly wrong. This structure looks majestic and looks way better that how it looks on TV.

Gopura-I, Brihadishwara Temple,Thanjavur

Inside a walled fortress, this temple will take your breath away. I stood in awe, astonishment and reverence. A standing testimony of the Chola’s opulence and vision, their architectural excellence can be seen in this structure built during the 11th century by Rajaraja Chola-I. The scale and the enormity of the deities reflect the staunch reverence of the king to lord Shiva.

The two Gopuras , Brihadishwara Temple,Thanjavur

Rajaraja, his sister Kundavai and queens donated their gold and silver to this temple. The gold Rajaraja donated came from his treasury and the booty from his Chera(Kerala) and Karnataka campaigns.
The intricate carvings on the pillars and walls, and the inscriptions on the walls make the temple a delight for a historian’s senses. The script used in the inscriptions resemble Tamil, Thai or some of the South East Asian languages. The huge(8.7m height) Shiva Linga in the sanctum sanctorum and Nandi statue reflect the magnificent munificence of the Cholas. The shrines of the goddess and Subrahmanya date back to 13th (Pandyas) and 15th century respectively. A legend says that the Nandi statue was growing and the growth was curbed after a nail was drove inside its back. So now, this monolithic Nandi is 3.7m high, 6m wide and 2.5 m broad. Get an idea how big that is?

Vimana -Inside Brihadishwara Temple, Thanjavur

The inside walls, Brihadishwara Temple

The pillared cloisters beside the main structure has a series of deities and Shiva Lingas which includes a few of them excavated in recent past; which makes one think when does an statue excavated end up as a god and when as a Art Gallery piece. The murals narrate the story of Shiva’s might. Among the things visible were the interlocks of the granite stones. The rocks so perfectly fitted into one another at a height of tens of metres seemed to share a harmonious bonding , unnerved by the rains, winds and heat. Very well maintained, this structure will leave you with thoughts like, was it actually built in the 11th century.

Interestingly, I could spot that only the doors were made of wood and not surprisingly, even they were intact. Not sure if they were replaced during the course of time, once or even more.

Elephant Hair being sold outside Brihadishwara Temple, Thanjavur

Unlike in most other temples, here the towering Vimana(roof of the sanctum sanctorum) (58m tall) makes the Gopura( Pyramidal tower at the entrance of the temple) look diminutive. The inscriptions of the Vimana talk about the Rajaraja Chola’s gifts to the temple. The 13 storied Vimana is ornate with several stucco figures. Water for the temple would have(still) come(s) from the Kaveri river(should be a distributory of the river Kaveri as Thanjavur falls in the river’s delta region) flowing adjacent to the fortified walls of the temple complex.

Indide Brihadishwara Temple at twilight

It would be the greatest show of disrespect to the Cholas, if I even think of comparing them to the Marathas. Frankly, even a Taj Mahal is nothing in front of this temple. You would not argue with me, if you have been to both the places.

The magnanimous idea, the grandiose vision, the Herculean effort, the glorious past of the Chola regime, their patronage for arts and culture, this temple stands testimony for all of these.

Some questions remain unanswered to me. Where did Raja Raja Chola rule from? Where was his palace? Since the Lord was more or less like the ruler, was the temple a center of governance too? But, where did the king and his family stay? How were the rocks brought into the site? How were they erected to such heights? Elephants, humans, inclined planes? I am yet to find some answers. The copious admiration lives on.
PS: I won’t rant about the school history text books that irreverently cut short the Chola kings. Cholas were just worthy of 5 or 10 marks while history was all about the series of kings who ruled Delhi, the Mughals included.

Cholas ruled not just South India and Ceylon. They had almost the whole of SE Asia under their control.Their system of governance and administration was so advanced and systematic that it can match the best of such systems that ever existed around the world. He was indeed king of kings, Rajaraja Chola.I am not getting into that, this post will go on for pages if I do. Read this by Charukesi if you still don’t believe the Chola might.
Suggested reading:

[For more on the architecture] Temples of South India, Ambujam Anantharaman
The Illustrated History of South India,K A Nilakantha Sastri

Photo credits Bharat Narayanan

A dozen kb of fame

Nikhil — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 07:53:54 +0000

Now, The Hindu said something interesting

Update:

One of the Q/A from the my email reply to Nita Sathyendran

2. looking through nikhil’s musings it appears u have a lot of info on Kerala why is that ie. why unlike most blogs by most mallus u stuck to Kerala, specifically Tvm issues ( local content) in a very postive way…and not cribbing as is generally done.

Ans:Blogs that sling mud at Kerala,its people,the skewed development indices are dime a dozen. Most of these people are arm chair critics staying far away from the state(in literary and figurative sense); they find it fashionable to criticize the state and the people. Hartal,unionism,communism,eve teasing,lack of development, bad roads etc being their cliched weapons against the state. They are not interested in doing something for Kerala or investing in Kerala. Incapable cynics there are, to say the least. How many of them have thought of ways to tackle hartals? How many of them would invest in the state? Is eve teasing only Kerala’s problem? How many of them who flashed their blogs with pot holed roads,wrote about the JNURM Volvo buses?

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