Collapsing Towers

Kalahasti, 26^th January

WD: Much of my fieldwork involves trips to the many Hindu temples that dot the landscape of southern India. These may be at the heart of towns or cities, or in villages in remote areas. A well-worn tourist route through Tamilnadu visits several fantastic examples at Mamallapuram then Chidambaram, Tanjavur, Srirangam and Madurai. Over the years I’ve been revisiting all of these and seeing ever more temples in the places between these well-visited sites. Yes, they do look different.

The research project that’s brought me here this year involves both research in the Tamilnadu State archives in Chennai and further records stored in New Delhi about archaeology and architectural conservation in British colonial India, and fieldwork in the temples discussed in these documents. This is why the whole family has been dragged to some rather off-the-beaten track places so that I can have a good look at a temple or two. Small-town and village Tamilnadu is now familiar to me (and I do love it) but as anticipated, these places are not always relaxing for family stays. Omelette and chips is not on the menu, and the ‘playground’ doesn’t have swings. For there is no menu, it’s tiffin mornings and evenings, vegetarian ‘meals’ off a plantain leaf at lunchtime, eggs don’t qualify as vegetarian and children play in the road or wherever (or they’re working).

So, on one of my final excursions out of Chennai WM and the younger two decided to stay behind while I made a dash north over the border into Andhra Pradesh. One of the richest and most visited temples in all of India is there, at Tirupati, but it was to another less-visited temple that we were headed on this occasion and M decided to come with me on a ‘Daddy-outing’ as my field assistant. So, how did we get on?

M: On our second attempt at getting to Andhra Pradesh we managed to catch the train going over the border. As we were going to catch our train we passed a new express train that was about to set off on its maiden voyage non-stop to Coimbatore [in western Tamilnadu]. It was decorated with balloons and tinsel, and it was painted bright green with all-sorts of rocks, boulders and waterfalls on it. It was our good fortune that we got on at the start of the train as at the second stop lots and lots of people got on until all of the seats were taken and the train was very full. I was squished between Daddy and another man. When I needed the loo I went to look for them at the end of the carriage, there was a ‘western’ loo and three ’Indian’ loos but the ‘western’ one was blocked shut by big bags of rice as were two of the Indian ones. I finally found one that wasn’t jammed which was very lucky as I was desperate by then. Of course I washed my hands with soap (Medimix of course).

During the train journey WD was chatting to a man who said we should get off before Tirupati and take a bus to Kalahasti and stay there instead of Tirupati, as we had planned. We saw the sense in the idea and decided to do just that. This meant we might be able to get the train home next day in time for swimming instead of a longer journey by bus. When we arrived at the stop the man had suggested we waited in a little bus stand for some time and then another man came up and said we should get on another bus to further down the road where there were more buses going our way. I felt a bit scared as it was dark, I was tired and we waiting in a strange place. On the bus the driver stopped suddenly as I was eating an orange and I bumped my lip really hard on the seat in front of me. It wasn’t great but nothing was broken. The seat behind me also fell off. We did find our way to Kalahasti and signed into the nearest hotel from the bus-stop.

The next morning we got up very early to see the temple just round the corner. As usual I took off my shoes and we walked into the innermost parts of the temple. We walked around the main shrine and there was lots of precious metals hollowed and carved into door guards. As we were about to walk into the main shrine there was a man, probably a priest, making a magnificent sound out of his conch shell. It kept on going. Before we walked into the temple we went to see if there were the remains of a magnificent gopura [pyramidal temple gateway] had really collapsed: all that was left where it had been was a big hole in the ground. I enjoyed travelling with Daddy, even with all the hardships and him wearing me out, and I want to do it again.

WM: Is this what is envisaged as a ‘Bring your daughter to work day’? M arrived home absolutely shattered and went to bed for the afternoon.  WD smelt fabulous.

WD: The massive early sixteenth-century gopura  collapsed one night last May. Oh dear. I saw what I needed to see in our brief visit to the temple but 5 hours each way and a poor night in a basic lodge in a scruffy little place was hard on M. She was wonderful though and I’m proud of her stoicism and ability to manage the hard travelling in a strange land. Was I pleased to get back? Oh yes, the idlis are lousy in Andhra.