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| Halebidu Temple |
Jackfruit seems to be very precious in
Karnataka. At the foot of the Chandragiri Hills we find a jackfruit seller and
Leena Chetan wants to play a perfect hostess. She orders for two plates of
jackfruit. It looks funny to me because back in Kerala, people find jackfruit
as a liability though during the season (from December to April) people indulge
in various culinary specialties made out of the raw and ripe jackfruit. In
certain season the jackfruit trees go crazy and they yield so many fruits that
none knows what would be done with it. Over the fences and boundary walls the
neighbors exchange their cordiality via cut jackfruits and at some point
everyone has more than enough of jackfruits in their plots that they do not
know what to do with these fruits. James Moolakkattil had not written a book on
jackfruit yet. He is one entrepreneur from Kerala who would comeback from the
Silicon Valley to start his own enterprise using jackfruit as the main raw
material for various products. Within a span of two years, jackfruit became an
international craze especially amongst the organic fruit lovers who had been
told by the doctors that it was a holistic fruit which could cure various
health issues including diabetes. Facebook also had exploded with the medicinal
properties of jackfruit. Come whatever may, Malayalis remain diehard lazy
creatures and during the time of excessive yields Tamilians from the bordering
areas come to the neighborhoods and take back truck loads of jackfruits only to
sell it back to the lazy Malayalis who would like to have some jackfruit chips
(fried like gold) on any occasion ranging from an evening drinking session to a
marriage celebration party.
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| Kukke Subramanya Temple |
The person who sells jackfruit here does it
meticulously. He smears his palms with oil first in order to avoid the sticking
substance that comes out of the fruit. Then he removes the fruit one by one and
places it on a piece of paper. May be eight such pieces make one plate and it
costs around ten rupees, I believe. We take two plates and relish it as if we
were eating jackfruit for the first time. In several other places including in
Tamil Nadu, I see the jackfruit sellers making special glass cases on the
trolleys from which they sell the fruit in order to highlight the hygiene
aspect of their fruit. What impresses me more it the meticulously extracted
sheath of the fruit kept like decorative sculptures around the trolley just to
invoke curiosity among people. There are different varieties of jackfruit; in
our place one is called Varikka which is famous for its firm but ripe fruits,
another is called ‘Koozha’ which as the name suggests once ripened gives out a
gooey fruit spreading the juice all over the eater. The third one is called
‘Chemaparthu Chakka’; while all the others are golden yellow in color, this
variety is red in color and is rare. Some other variety is called ‘Then
Varikka’ in which each fruit pod is filled with some sort of honey which is
heavenly to taste. Then there are other jackfruit species but not given
complete jackfruit status; one of them is ‘Ayani Chakka’ which has small bulbs
as fruits and even the fruit as a whole is small and yellow in color. Another
variety is called ‘Kadacchakka’ whose fate is to be consumed when not ripe.
Nobody tastes a ripe kadachakka. Everyone wants to make a curry out of the raw
kadachakka which made with the right kind of condiments excels even a good
non-vegetarian dish. One good thing about the jackfruits is that it would make
you smell good. One could tell a house with a cut ripe jackfruit from a distance
itself. But if the jackfruit is allowed to rot in the tree or on the ground it
leaves out a strong stench which is difficult to stand. While fruits are such
three dimensional shapes that make the drawing of it easier than any other 3D
object, jackfruit may pose some challenge to the artist as its bulbous shape
with so many thorns. Late Rajan Krishnan and Ratheesh TR are some artists who
have painted jackfruits in their works. Once upon a time, the villagers used to
carry a full ripe jackfruit to their urban relatives causing a major
embarrassment for them. A person carrying a jackfruit is considered to be a
rural person who does not know the ways of the world. Hence, jackfruit is a
cultural marker too.
Luckily the fragrance of a jackfruit does
not linger in the car. An enthusiastic Leena keeps asking us whether we would
like to eat some raw mango with salt and chilly. The proposition itself brings
water into our mouths as such kind of quick preparations used to be the staple
of our summer holidays during the childhood. We could climb on the mango trees
with some salt and chilly stored in our pockets and could pluck one or two
mangoes and eat there itself. If you add a little bit of onion, red chilly
flake and a spoon of fresh coconut oil into the chopped pieces of raw mango,
you could eat anything with it and drink a lot of water. When you are eating
such rural items, you cannot relish it alone. You need a few friends around
you. With your mouth and eyes watering you look at each other after each bite
and exchange some meaningful smiles and sounds, which is the most enjoyable
part of eating such delicacies. Then you run to the well, draw a bucket of
water and drink directly from it and heave a sigh with your chest panting and
tongue still burning and the teeth feeling an odd and inexplicable sharp taste
turning everything that you touch with it a very painful but enjoyable
experience. The mere suggestion of eating raw mangoes itself is enough to bring
back a load of memories. But we do not have enough time to test our taste buds.
Hence the vehicles slowly emerges from the temple town and runs towards the
next destination; Halebidu.
Halebidu is a 12th century CE
twin temples complex established by the Hoysala King, Vishnu Vardhana. When we reach
there it is already noon and braving sharp sunlight and heat people move in and
out of the temple complex. There are two temples in the Halebidu complex; one
is of the Hoysaleswara and the other is Kedareswara. Both are the
incarnations/forms of Lord Shiva which is evident from the two huge Nandis
sitting opposite to each temple complex. The temples are dark and cool; one
could sit there for any number of hours because of the spiritual depth that the
interiors invoke in you. Once in a while the peace inside the temple complex is
broken by a group of visiting villagers or a group of foreign tourists led by a
local guide who could make convincing stories for the tourists. I am approached
by a few guides but I decline their service. The major problem of having a
guide in such historical sites is that we would be forced to listen to the
stories that they have conjured up. In Khajuraho, I had heard how the guides
fool the tourists. They take the tourists to certain sites where the temple
premises have some titillating erotic sculptures. The guides reduce the whole
Khajuraho temple into a sculptural pornographic site. Perhaps that is what
impresses the tourists most. In Fatehpur Sikri too once the guides had fooled
us by telling us how one could make a sound in a corner of the architecture
which would be echoed throughout the other chambers. They convinced me saying
that it was specially done for military purpose. But it was not so. Any
architecture with high arches to support it would reflect the voice in certain
ways. It was also foolish to believe that the soldiers communicated with each
other through whispering into the corners of the architecture.
Halebidu and later in Belur Chennakesave
temple, which is comparatively smaller we find the heights of the Hoysalan
architecture. If you are familiar with the Mysore sandalwood carving, then you
could see how the same style has been derived from the 12th century
artisans or vice versa. While the sculptures of the deities, yakshas,
dwarapalakas and so on are slender yet voluminous one could see/feel some kind
of lightness in all of them as if they were all done in some light materials
like wood. These stones give out a feeling that they are wax forms. In fact
these temples are made out of soap stones which are easy to carve. May be because
the artisans were so good at doing intricate carving they chose soap stone as
their building medium or the soap stone had given them a chance to focus on
intricate decorativeness than focusing on heavy sculptures. Both in Halebidu
and Belur one could see the outer layers of the temple tiered with various
images. The first four to five layers depict war scenes and these scenes
justify the view that King Vishnuvardhana commissioned these temples in order
to register and celebrate a war victory. Ironically, a closer look of these
tiered sculptural renditions reveals that the third layer where the horse
regiments are depicted uniformly destroyed. Initially I think that it is
accidental and the uniformity and regularity of the defaced the horses and
soldiers make me look at the other tiers closely only to find out that wherever
there is a war aggression (not mere procession) depicted, all of them are
meticulously defaced and destroyed. Then I look up to the history of the sites
and find that in 14th century one Malik Kafur attacked the Halebidu
temple and had done major vandalism rendering the twin temples into ruins till
the Archeological Survey of India took over and started putting the ruined
portions together. What we see today as Halebidu is the reworked version of the
original temple from its ruins.
The drive is long and by the time we reach the
Planters’ Club at Sakaleshpur it is already dusk. Chetan comes out to greet us
and he has ordered food specially for the starving team of three. We demand a
quick retirement for the day and we sleep off the moment we hit the bed. The
next morning Chetan and Leena come to pick us up. They are taking us to a
famous Subramanyan Temple at Kukke. Chetan brings his new Scorpio and through
the winding roads he drives the car with adequate skill and sharpness. For a
long and winding stretch along the hills and gorges the road is not in a good
condition. The road is a major one though in a very pathetic state. This is the
business artery of Karnataka for most of the cargo vehicles from Mumbai and
Pune take this route. I ask him why then the road is not repaired at all.
Chetan reveals something very peculiar. A year back there was a major road
repair project taken up by the authorities and for almost two months all the
business establishments including the hotels and restaurants were closed down
due to the lack of customers. When the road was closed for repair, the cargo
movement took a detour a few kilometers away from here thereby deserting
Sakaleshpur and the areas around it a lost and ghost town. Once the first phase
of the road work was finished, the influential business people got together and
impressed upon the government to drop the second phase of the road repair and
development. They are ready to use a bad road but they do not want to lose business
over road repair. Hence we have around fifteen kilometers of good road and
another fifteen kilometers of extremely bad road.
Kukke Subramanya Temple is famous for it’s idol’s ability to fulfill the wishes of the devotees. Throughout the year
people from different South Indian states visit the temple. The Chetan couple
takes us inside and they have a puja to perform. We do not want to join the
Puja as it is a family affair. We stand in a long queue along with hundreds of
devotees. As we reach the main door of the temple, one young policeman posted
there asks us to take off our shirts. We do it promptly. As every other person
is there without a shirt we do not feel embarrassed. We go into the temple and
say a few prayers and come out. As the Chetan couple does their puja we decide
to go out for a walk in the town. It is a small temple town with a lot of small
town business establishments related to temple. Chinese products are
omnipresent. From Lord Muruga to Ganesh, laughing Buddha to Talismans
everything is made in China. People buy them with a lot of reverence; the name
of the factory and country are unimportant. What matters is the devotees’ trust
in the object of worship. There is a huge Chariot parked outside the temple. Chariot
pulling with the idol of Subramanyan inside it is an important ritual there. As
I wait there, a young elephant comes out of a side lane. He does not have
chains around his leg. He is free, hairy and happy. Later I see him wishing
people by placing his trunk on the heads of the devotees. I had seen similar
scenes in Guruvayoor and Thiruchendoor in my former visits. By noon Chetan
couple finishes their puja and asks us to go inside the temple again. There
they lead us to the special dining room where even special people wait in queue
for free lunch provided by the temple. Finally we get entry into the dining
that could accommodate around thirty people at a time. We have been waiting for
ten minutes for the people inside to wipe off their leaf plates. Now it is our
turn to do it quickly as people wait eagerly outside looking at the movements
our hands and mouths. The food is simple and tasty. Chetan says that the taste
of the food has been maintained for over fifty years without any change. Just
outside the building from where we ate our food, I see, in front of another
section thousands of people thronging and waiting impatiently in a winding
queue. Chetan tells me that it is for the Aam Janta (for ordinary people). For
a moment I feel not so good for being a VIP in a temple. The driving back is
smooth and inside the car I linger between sleep and wakefulness.
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| Leena Chetan at the Coffee Plantations |
Now it is time for us to see what we have
been told all this while; Coffee plantation. Chetan takes us to his home. It is
a palatial old home that looks moderate from outside but so spacious inside.
Chetan takes us to the large court yard that could be of the size of three
volleyball courts and two tennis courts where the workers are cleaning and
sorting black pepper. Chetan introduces the coffee seasoning machine that
extracts the seeds from the pods. He explains each part of the coffee seed
making process. A work force of forty people is almost winding up for the day.
They do not look like Malayalis. Chetan informs me that they are from Assam and
Bengal. They are not skilled workers. They have been inducted into the
workforce as the local boys and girls are no longer ready to work in the
plantations. These Assamese and Bengali workers live in cottages given to them
by Chetan within the plantation itself and they are happy about their living
and earning. Only thing that is troubling the Chetan couple is the future of
the children of these workers. “They are not able to send them to the school
here for the problem of language. But we are trying our best to create some
educational environment here,” says Leena. Later we have a very sumptuous snack
session inside the home and a conducted tour within the home. From there we
visit the plantation. There are three types of coffee growing. And with a new
rain, the coffee plants have been bloomed. Leena is excited to show us the
flowers. Inside the plantation Chetan has made three ponds; one for irrigation,
one for growing fish and one for the daily use of the work force. One of the
workers jump into the pond, collects the lotus seeds and gives us for eating.
It tastes good. Chetan couple wants to convert some of the cottages into a bit
more comfortable so that they could invite the artists and writers to spend
some time inside the plantation, near the water bodies. Chetan shows us the
tracks through which elephants and monkeys come. He also shows us a small
plantation temple which is guarded by a faithful dog. They take us to a place
called Bugudahalli and tell us that this place is good for night camping and day
painting. All of us have ideas. We weave them and stand against the breeze
soaking ourselves in the love of expanses below and above us. Back in the
plantation we stand in front of an ancient tree which is also a temple. The
workers come there to worship and once in a year they sacrifice a cock there.
We see the huge termite mounts which have been hijacked by snakes. Ancient
trees stand still around us. Suddenly a silence engulfs us. We could hear the
trees whispering. We get into the car and drives out of the plantation. On
either side, coffee plants in full bloom stood in a row to bid us good bye. As
we come out of the main gate they turn their white heads to the silent trees,
their ancient gurus, for a lesson or two.
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