Travels with Selkit - 1

Let me begin this extended and many-part rumination by invoking the blessings of Hathor, the Divine Bovine and offering thanks to Selkit, the Protectress for having made it all possible.

SEPTEMBER 28th 2024:

The day begins very early. After a couple of hours worth of loitering at Kochi airport (highlights - the vast 'Parayipetta Panthirukulam' mural, a rich-looking 'prayer room' specially furnished by Yusuf Ali and an empty 'meditation room', whatever it is used for) and zero sleep, I get on an Etihad flight at 4 am. A meal of sorts and a bit of tired dozing and one wakes to a very iridiscent sunrise somewhere over the Persian Gulf. We touch down at Abu Dhabi around 7 local time.

The airport has a very cool and futuristic design with lots of wavy curves and seems to function very well in directing and redirecting passengers (it even has the odd 'smoking cabin'). I have about 4 hours here and look around the shopping area. The only shop that seems to sell tea/coffee is Starbucks, a brand I have always avoided in Kochi. Here, I venture in; an east Asian looking assitant welcomes we warmly, promises to make me the best possible flavor of tea, serves up something with a name somewhat like 'melon spice' and leaves me poorer by a cool 650 Indian rupees.

I am airborne again at 11 local time. The plane sweeps diagonally across the Arabian peninsula - a two hour show of cloudless, rugged barrenness. Even from the safe height of 12 km, the desert is a scary sight. The only unusual feature one sees is what looks like clusters of huge black circles drawn on the sand at several places. We eventually get across and fly over the Sinai peninsula and some more baking desert until a vast swathe of built up area suddenly reveals itself - clusters and clusters of huge housing blocks, all painted in shades of brown and looking like having somehow gotten built from the desert sand. A few more minutes and we land in Cairo. For the first-ever time, I am in a foreign country, alone. I have no Arabic, the local language, except basic greetings, and I can't even count in it.

We are welcomed to Egypt by this presence - 'Selkit, goddess of protection, safety and welcoming'. I haven't ever heard the name. Apart from the physical allure, emphasized by the attire, what catches my eye is something like a dolphin perched on her head. More would be discovered about her later.

And on a wall nearby is a reproduction of a vaguely familiar ancient Egyptian painting of a group of three female musicians, two wearing very fashionable-looking gowns and the third in basically nothing!

I hurriedly get some dollars changed to Egyptian pounds, step out into the midday heat and flag down a Uber. The around 40 km ride cuts right across the city - we pass the Moqattam hills, the citadel, old-looking mosques, and then, I find we are in Giza (I had failed to spot my first ever crossing of the Nile!) - building after brown building displaying huge posters of ancient Egyptian icons - Rameses, Khafre, Nefertiti, Sphinx,...

Two pyramids loom in the distance, readily recognizable as Khufu and Khafre. At 2.30 pm, I am at the hotel. About an hour's rest and I step out, impatiently. From where I am, the pyramids are only 2 km away. The idea is to walk around the pyramids, leaving detailed exploration to some other day. Disappointment. The entire Giza plateau is out of bounds after 4 pm so all I can do is to admire only those two pyramids from afar. Thinking on my feet, I decide to go to Khan-al-Khalili, the heart of old Muslim Cairo. Uber says a scooter ride costs less than half a car; I take the bait and within minutes, a muscular young fellow named Aamir fetches up on a very minimal looking motorbike.

The ride behind Aamir is an absolute heart-in-the-mouth affair - around 80 kmph speed on an expressway, helmetless, with cars zooming past us on both sides... Once I tried to ask Aamir to slow down a bit. He says "Not possible, my friend!". I don't remember anything more of the ride except a couple of near misses and all those horrible thoughts that began "What if...?!" . Half an hour of the stunt and I am put down in one piece in a crowded, busy and very traditionally Muslim area. Relief is immense and finds expression as a 20 percent tip; Aamir seems stunned.

For the next couple of hours (until total exhaustion drives me to catch a Uber back to Giza), I drift aimlessly up and down the narrow gallies of Khan-al-Khalili videographing the crowds and the immensely varied trading and the crowds and the old and elegant mosques and madrasas that rise up here and there from among the colorful chaos of commerce. Thousands of mannequins dressed in all sorts of fancy clothing including swimwear and belly-dancing costumes are being presented to a crowd where 90 percent of the women wear the hijab and look quite conservative.

And somewhere, I am pulled aside by a souvenir trader. He manages to dump a cheap sphinx and nefertiti on me - shooting down my resolve not to buy anything from anyone with "my friend, you need to help me, my friend from India..." (A couple of days later, when I revisit the galli, he would spot and greet me with "you back again my friend! have a nice day!").

Approaching one end of the bazaar, I am transfixed by what must be some muslim devotional singing played from a big mosque. The intricate notes sung with deep fervor rise like a mountain range of calm above the chaotic churn of traffic. The mosque I later figure out is Al Azhar but I still have no idea of the kind of music I got to hear.

SEPTEMBER 29th
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I am up early and have a leisurely breaker at the rooftop restaurant that gives out a very nice view of those two pyramids basking in the morning sunshine and changing hue by the minute. Today, I am headed elsewhere.

By 9 it's time to catch a uber to the historic Tahrir square - of the Arab Spring fame. The Egyptian museum is right across. The next four plus hours, I tramp the often cluttered and often poorly lit interior of this century (and counting) old museum which houses some of the very best of Egyptian heritage from 4000 BC to the time of Christ. Let me get to the pictures straight and put up a personal random dozen (not the **top 12** by any means, for I will forced to leave out the entire King Tut collection and the hitherto unknown (to me) pharaoh Psusennes I burial treasures!):
Arguably the second-most famous exhibit here, the Narmer palette, dating back to an incredible 3100 BC! To have come up with such sophisticated heraldry and symbolism that long back is truly astrounding.

The image of of Narmer presented as a virile bull battering down the cities of his enemies brings to mind the (probably) one and a half millennium later Rigvedic myth of Indra as Purandara (the destroyer of Puras, cities).

And right next is one of the most thoughtful exhibits I ever noticed in any museum - a close replica of the palette that can be touched by visitors - and indeed, is meant to be touched - with an accompanying Braille description.

And here is the magnificent Khafre from around 2500 BC. Let me list only some of the staggering facts about this piece: it is larger than life (the pharaoh would stand 7 plus feet tall if he stood up), carved out of a single block of extremely hard anorthosite rock brought from a quarry at Aswan (700 km away) and shows the ruler in idealized muscularity; but just see his time-transcending gaze! A smartly carved Horus falcon hovers protectively (unpardonably, I failed to pay enough attention to the divine bird- the symbolism it embodies and how it has been incorporated in such a neat and compact way into the composition!).

The minimal chair has its legs modelled into lion's paws - so what one has is a a true Simhasana (literally Lion Seat - Sanskrit word for Throne). And I have to say this: any comparison of Khafre with the contemporaneous 'Priest King' of Mohendjodaro will reveal how way, way ahead the Egyps of those days were of anybody else!

Pharaoh Khasekhem from the 27th century BC more than a century before Khafre), half of his head, sadly missing. He wears a proper tunic unlike most other seated pharaoh statues I can think of.

Half of the body of this colossal Akhenaton is a spooky whoosh of concrete:

A touch of sadness on the face of this strangely realistic 'reserve head' from the times of Khafre:

Even in its mutilated state, this face of queen Hatshepsut transfixes me with its gaze:

High priest Kaaper (2400 BC) in silent conversation with a 21st century visitor:

What is believed to be the oldest known (around 3500 BC) Egyptian mask. Most details about its function are unknown but the stamp of clever mischief is unmistakeable:

A cobra, crowned and with vulture wings forms an armrest of King Tut's gilded chair:

The footrest of another of Tut's chairs shows Asiatics and Black Africans as fit to be trampled upon:

For a description of the following pic, just click and zoom - curiously, ancient Egyptians identified bearded faces as Asiatic (Egyptians themselves and their Gods lack any facial hair; possible exception: a Menkaure statue that shows the hint of a mooch):

Alexander the great, the Ptolemies who followed him and the Romans who supplanted them, all worshipped Egyptian Gods and adopted many of the traditions of Egypt (to such an extent that the one instance of a greek named Heliodorus erecting a pillar to Vishnu near Sanchi feels rather ...normal). Here is a colossal statue of emperor Augustus as pharaoh - clad in the shendit kilt and striding confidently in the classic 'stretcher-bearer' pose:

A massive granite sarcophagus, shown 'semi-exploded':

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Around 2 pm, I stagger out of the museum into the glare of the Cairo midday and stalk from shade to shade searching for a cafe. A couple of drinks downstream, I start off again, ask around and walk down to the nearby Anwar Sadat station. It is a very short metro ride from here to Mar Girgis station, the entry point to the ancient Christian (Coptic) quarter of Cairo. I explore, very superficially, the Coptic Museum (absolutely deserted) and the nearby 'Hanging Church' (a few tourists about).
A very byzantine looking Virgin and child icon:

An unusual icon - it is indeed part of some Christian tradition that Mary knew her infant son's fate and I can recall at least one painting by Bellini which shows the pensive mother almost grieving over a fast-asleep Christ child. Here things are more explicitly shown:

12 year old Jesus meets with the priests and scholars at the temple - and impresses them profoundly:

The 'hanging church':

Very north-Indian looking 'jharokas' on a nearby building:

Stepping out of the Christian quarter, I walk through leafy lanes in the pleasant twilight sun towards an experience I have been craving for - the Nile
A common enough sight on Cairo sidewalks. Hookah smokers:

This very affable guy is frying what look like 'Arab dosas', They came big and perfectly round - he weilds a simple contraption that looks like a compass to achieve the neat circularity. I seek and obtain his permission to shoot a video - without buying his fare. A passerby remarks: "India, Amta Bachaan, Shaarook Han!"

Finally, the River. A leisurely walk over the Nile:

On entering Giza, I call Uber and get texted: "Gamila will reach you in a minute". Soon appears a hefty apparition in a hijab with the voice of a 15-year old boy. The ride back to hotel is very long due to the utterly conjested state of the Giza express highway. Gamila is talkative and asks about India and wants to know how Cairo compares with Delhi. Suddenly she fishes out a coin and offers it to me as a souvenir "it shows our king Tutenkhamun, a very special coin!" she claims(over the next week, petty purchases have made me the possessor of nearly a dozen of them). Finally, I realize it is close to the hotel and say: "you can put me down here, I will walk the rest of the way. Too bad, this traffic!" and pay her the amount Uber asked for plus a 20 pound tip when Gamila says: "Look, I missed at least one more ride due to the jam. Give me another 40 pounds!" I pay up and walk off.

To Egypt, with Love … and Hope

Many years ago, I wrote this post: To Russia, with love around the much-loved childrens' classic 'Chuk and Gek'. Now is the time to talk about a little Malayalam jewel from 1979 - 'Pyramidinte Nattil' ('In Pyramid Land') by M P Parameswaran.

Parameswaran, now in his late eighties, is a nuclear scientist turned science activist and accomplished science popularizer. Among his most acclaimed works is a deft translation of Landau et al's 'Physics for Everyone' into Malayalam. IMO, the seemingly now-little-remembered 'Pyramid...' is just as much of a masterpiece. A recreation of life in Pharaonic Egypt of c 2500 BC as seen (mostly) thru the eyes of a young boy Abu and his family (parents Inothep and Osiria, big brother Ahmos, kid sis Manetha), it was part of the 50-volume series 'Science Cream'. I don't know if the work is an out-and-out original piece or the Mal adaptation of some foreign classic. And I also remember seeing a Tamil translation of this work Chennai some time in the 1990s.

That would be enough of intro! Here are some brief passages, in free translation:
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"Dong...dong...dong!!" went the village bell, very loud and clear. It was morning. Abu and father were eating breakfast. Mother was busy making flat breads for them and Manetha was helping her. But when the bell went, they left everything and ran out. A large crowd had gathered in the village square - men with shaven heads and wearing only short knee-length kilts, women in long neck-to-ankle gowns and with eyelashes and lips painted, children... A royal herald stood in the middle. He presently announced: "His majesty's astronomers have seen the transit of the Morning star that marks the beginning of a new year. So folks, rejoice and make merry. Happy new year!"

New year! The Nile would soon begin to flood. It would be soon time to toil in the fields; no more rest and torpor. But yes, for the day, let's rejoice!

Abu ran up to the loft and picked up an earthen jar. Everyday since the star was seen last, he had been dropping a small pebble into it - an 'experiment' brother Ahmos had suggested. Now is the time to count those pebbles. Abu counted and double-checked. Amazing, there were exactly 365 of them, just as big bro predicted!
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Next day at day break, Abu and his dad set out for Memphis. They walked to the river bank, the latter leading two goats by ropes. "Out there, I will barter these goats for a bronze ploughshare. We also need some sharp knives" said Inothep.

"Will we get to meet Brother?" Abu asked. "Difficult!" said Inothep. "I have plenty work in the bazaar and Ahmos, he would be too busy to spend time with us. He is after all, a scribe with Lord Amanmet!"

They loaded their little papyrus boat with the goats and started off. The river was a very crowded waterway. The jetties were busy with slaves loading and unloading grain and stuff from and onto boats. They could be heard singing:

"The boats, all are laden with barley, barley!
But the Master still makes us toil and toil!
As if our bones, they are made of copper, copper!"


The life of a slave is tough - however hard they work, their masters aren't satisfied!

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Abu walked north from Memphis, down the crowded main road to Giza. Up ahead, he caught sight of a group of of scribes: they were walking briskly and confidently, paintboxes dangling from their necks. Were they .... part of Amanmet's workshop? Abu caught up with the group and asked one of them, tentatively.

"Are you scribes working for Lord Amanmet?"

"Well, what do you want?"

"My elder brother is a scribe with Amanmet. I am going to meet him"

"And what's bro's name?"

"Ahmos"

"O, you Ahmos's brother! Come along, we will take you there. But well, today, Ahmos would be busy... with festivities at Saqqara - you know, today is the feast of Amanmet's late father and Ahmos is in charge of the arragements."

"And what is in the packets you are carrying?"

"That's charcoal and color for the writing ink. What say, do you too care to be a scribe like your bro?"

" 'Care'?! These guys may be mocking me gently." Abu thought. After all, who wouldnt' want to be a scribe? Only boys from big families get to learn writing. As for Ahmos, he had got his chance under circumstances that were rather...er, special!
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Abu remembered the days - it was so long ago that the Nile had flooded thrice since then - when the family waited in extreme anxiety and despair for news of Ahmos who had got lost while on a trip to Memphis. The fear was whether slave contractors caught and took him to work on the pyramid. Indeed those agents were known to grab any able-bodied young fellow they saw loitering alone. Pyramid-building is a huge undertaking, so huge that no number of workers would suffice; there are thousands and thousands of slaves captured from Nubia, Lybia, even Upper Egypt but they aren't enough. And since work started, the astronomers have seen the celestial Transit 12 times and things are nowhere near completion. And pharaoh Menakaure has begun to grow old(*) - and that has necessitated forcible recruitment of laborers from among the local peasantry and their boys.
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An hour of walking and their procession approached Saqqara. Now, on both sides of the road were buildings made of white stone. They had no windows and looked like neat blocks. These were Mestebes, where the souls of the Dead come to rest. Many streets cut across the main road and all of them were lined with mestebes as well. Saqqara looked a lot neater and well-ordered than Memphis but then, this is a city only for the dead. In the distance, under the white heat of the sky glistened the huge pyramids, resting places of Pharaohs.

They halted in front of a mestebe. A priest dressed in leopard skin came out. He said to Ahmos: "we have finished chanting the sacred formulae. The food can be laid out". Those carrying food baskets stepped in, Abu in tow. Inside the mestebe, it was dark. Soon, a ceremonial table was set with dishes. The priest began a prayer: "O Soul of noble Shenmet, please come hither from your secret dwelling in the netherworld via the invisible door. Your noble son has brought you a sumptuous repast. Please partake of it!"

Abu was scanning the pictures drawn on the walls. There were also inscriptions. He asked Ahmos: "What's this?"

"That is the picture of a bee. It stands for 'king'"

"And what is this round thing?"

"That is the sun. It could also mean 'daytime'"

"Here seems to be a longish passage. Can you read it out for me?"

Ahmos began slowly and carefully: "From emperor Menkaure to Lord Shenmet, May you, virtuous Shenmet, be granted a peaceful and easy passage along the grand avenue of noble souls to the realms of kings and gods!"
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Pepi's Grandpa was full of stories. Descended from a long line of expert masons, he was right-hand man to Thutotep, the designer of Khafre's pyramid. Thutotep, in turn was a direct descendent of the great Imhotep, architect of Khufu's Great Pyramid.

"Listen carefully, boys! The only way to get into Khafre's pyramid is from the north. One level above the ground on the north face, you can count, east to west, 96 massive blocks of stone, each of them more than a man's armspan, set in mortar. However, from the east end, after the 43rd stone are seven much smaller stones. The fifth of them can be loosened out by scraping out the earth binding it and since there are four of you, you could pull it off. A narrow passage will open up before you and goes down almost 200 steps; at the end you will be in a big and empty hall. Vertically above this hall at a height of thirty fathoms is the Pharaoh's burial chamber. You simply can't get there! But there is a way to get into some other chambers. On the easten wall of the hall you will find a wooden peg. Knock it off and you will begin to hear sand trickling out. Then climb 30 steps back up the way you came and turn left and wait. After a while, the big block right in front will simply move aside and open up another passage. On the western wall of the hall there is another wooden peg. Don't touch it; if you loosen it, the way you came down will get blocked and you will be trapped inside forever! It will be pitch dark inside the pyramid so keep some oil-soaked wicks ready. So, go, get in and look around but don't pick anything, don't disturb anything!"

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"Can you read what you just wrote?" Abu eagerly asked his brother. Ahmos began:
"To escape from ceaseless labour and to rise in the bureaucracy, master writing! A Scribe has won total deliverance from manual labour! The difference between the hand that wields the writing pen and one pulling a boat's oars is stark. I have seen the metal-worker toiling away at his furnace - his fingers, they are rough and harsh like the claws of an alligator and from him rises a stink like that of fish-eggs. The lot of one who works with a chisel is a lot worse than a farmer's - the tree is his field and the chisel, the pickaxe. The mason, he works with all sorts of stone. His hands are scarred and at the end of each day, he is worn out! The weaver's life is worse than a woman's - all day, he has to squat with knees poking into his belly. He has no access to fresh air. And if he has to see sunshine, he has to give bread (bribes) to his supervisor.
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The bugle would sound soon. Inothep knew that and so did Aton and everyone else. The harvest is over; and soon, the Pharaoh's governor would arrive, to collect the royal share. Everyone was assembled in the village square. The governor duly arrived, borne in a litter. The bugle went and the governor stood up and addressed the villagers:

"Farmers of the Nile valley, his majesty is pleased with your efforts! We have come to congratulate you and to appreciate the fruits of your labour"

"And to make off with em!" muttered Tuttu.

"Hush!" said Aten. "keep quiet if you don't want to be caught and taken away as a slave laborer at the Pyramids!"

The names of the farmers were called out. Soon, it was Inothep's turn:

Inothep knelt before the governor. The scribe read from his ledger: "Inothep owns a 200 cubit square plot. So, he should have produced 30 hekets of maize and 60 hekets of barley"

The governor muttered something to the scribe who added: "What's this? Just 10 hekets of barley? If you declare a lower yield than you got, the punishment will be severe!"

"My lord, we won't lie. As you know, there was a wave of locust attacks. Our crop was ruined." said Inothep. "It is will great effort that we could salvage even this much..."

"Of course, we know about locusts and stuff! But this much of grain simply won't do; we need to feed the Pharaoh's soldiers. And we need to feed those who build his majesty's pyramid! So you guys have to work much harder!"

"Fiddlesticks!" thought Abu. "these bullies, they just come and rob us! At least Dad had the courage to put the real facts in front of the gov!"
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(*) Elsewhere (in Mali's Balakathamalika, to be precise), I have read a story of an astrologer predicting only six more years of earthly life for Mycerinus (Greek name of Menkaure) and the Pharaoh deciding to keep all lamps in his palace burning thru all nights and trying to stay awake and active as long as possible each day so that his remaining lifespan would effectively get doubled! I dunno if he actually died at the predicted time. If he did, the prophecy would be a candidate for the most accurate self-fulfilling prophecy ever - chronic and severe sleep deprivation might have caused the hapless pharaoh to burn himself out prematurely!

Got to keep this going...

The year is halfway thru and this will only be the second 2024 post. I was and am struggling a bit with some 'Post Stress Traumatic Disorder' - but that really is no excuse for the present lousy posting rate...
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Rekesh recently gifted me some serious stuff from the Met(ropolitan Museum of Art), New York. The highlights were a magnificent tome 'Tree and Serpent' on early Buddhist art in India and another gentler volume titled 'How to read Buddhist art. I read the latter with some care over the last weekend. Here is something curious from there.

Here is a 13th century wooden Amitabha Buddha from Japan:

Alongside was given this view into the above sculpture - which is hollow and built using the 'yosegi-zakuri' technique, multiple blocks of wood carved separately and put together by a master artist:

The above 'deconstruction' reveals that the Buddha, in some sense, anticipates 'the Fountain', said to be a remarkable avant garde landmark by Marcel Duchamp and that too by a good seven centuries!
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'Arhat' is title used for a certain category of ascended masters in both Buddhism and Jainism. 'How to read..' and Wiki explain the word 'arhat' as deriving from the Sanskrit root 'arh' meaning to deserve or to merit - here 'worthy of enlightenment'. Jains often spell the word 'Arihant' which could mean 'slayer of enemies'. I guess the enemies referred to are those sins and mental tendencies that prevent one from attaining nirvana and not any real human or other beings.
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'How to read...' mentions 'non-duality' as something integral to Buddhist philosophy and that this school precedes the Advaita (again 'non dual' and very Hindu) by a few centuries. Sankara, the preeminent Advaita exponent has often been accused of lifting concepts wholesale from Buddhist philosophy and using doctored versions thereof against Buddhism itself. I am not taking sides in this debate since I really am not one for philosophy or theology.

Another curiosity mentioned in this book is a trade in of all things, fermented fish sauce ('garum') that flourished in ancient times via the silk route between Europe and Asia.
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'Tree and Serpent' shows the following incredibly sad picture. The caption tells the whole story:

Even if it were just ignorance and not any religious hatred that drove the above 'repurposing', the sadness wouldn't be reduced one bit.
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Leaving Buddhism for the time being, here is a pic from wiki - a mythological painting by a certain Balasaheb Pant Pratinidhi, who was both ruler of a princely state in Maharashtra and an artist. Rishyasringa is being coaxed and cajoled to leave his jungle hermitage by 'dancing girls':

As an occasional Bougerou admirer, I can't help mention how practically every figure above is faithfully adopted from the frenchman's 'Nymphs and Satyr'!

Satyrs are often shown with horns of goats - Bougerou himself has done so. And as per our myth, Rishya too was a horned sage - well, he had antlers of a deer, due to certain rather, well, horny circumstances - and in some visual representations (for example the murals at the Mattancheri palace), he is shown with them! So, Balaseheb chose well!

I dunno what interactions Balasaheb might have had with senior and much more famous contemporary Ravi Varma. I also don't know whether Varma himself, if at all, was 'inspired' by any western masterpiece.
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Do check out this wiki article on ambigrams. I couldn't find much there or elsewhere on 'bilingual ambigrams'. Here is a very decent one: the establishment name 'Sarangi' written (albeit with some stretches and contortions) in both English and Malayalam scripts:

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On seeing the above pic of a Babylonian figure (royal, divine, whatever) from the Brit Museum, Rekesh responded: "Nose chopped off it seems. There was this idea in the middle east that Gods don't eat offerings but only smell their aroma. So, to desecrate an idol all one needed to do was to conk off the nose!"

And he added: "Yahweh is shown enjoying the aroma of burnt offerings - mainly the fat of animals burnt in the fire. As was said in Genesis, chapter 8: "Then Noah built an altar to the LORD. And taking from every kind of clean animal and clean bird, he offered burnt offerings on the altar. When the LORD smelled the pleasing aroma, He said in His heart, “Never again will I curse the ground because of man, even though every inclination of his heart is evil from his youth. And never again will I destroy all living creatures as I have done.…""

That really is something. Even Desi myths say that Gandharvas are divine beings who know the essence of Gandha - smell. And Perian myths do have certain 'Gandarevas'. So, who knows, just as 'Narayana' probably was 'Son of Man', our Gandharvas too might hark all the way back to Yahweh and all those big-bearded Bab guys!

'Kerala's Parthenon' and other oddities

One often gets to read how the Parthenon looks so elegant because of all sorts of subtle visual mathematics it incorporates - golden ratio and all. And there is Giotto's Campanile which embodies some really cool off-vertical angles to create an indelible visual impression. The Qutub Minar too can look very graceful but, in my experience, only when viewed from within a limited range of distances.

Here is a building that I see almost everyday - the western Gopuram (ceremonial gateway) leading into the sanctuary of the Tripunithura temple in Kerala. Very little is known about its age - semi-informed guesses I have heard range from 300 to 1000 years. Nobody really knows who designed it. But take it from me, it has a knack of looking real good whatever the distance and angle of viewing. If the following pics fail to convey its uniquely understated magic, hold me responsible as a mediocre photographer - and all those who have over the centuries managed to surround the edifice with all sorts of stupid clutter!

I often think of photographing this gopuram extensively from all sorts of angles and distances and recreating it as a standalone work of art so as to bring out and highlight its special proportions but that is a job for a better trained and equipped person. To my knowledge, no serious study of its proportions has ever been carried out and no one authority has so much as talked about these proportions:
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The Canterbury cathedral, to me, is the most Hindu of Christian places of worship. The reason lies in its crypt. The Romanesque pillars have really cool fantastic beings carved on them, just like in desi temples - and very unlike most later churches which are more focussed and far less 'idolatrous'. Photography is supposedly banned but happens. And here are some pics:

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We now move from a medieval Brit crypt to a spanking-new, 21st century Desi one:

About a year back, Rekesh told me about his writing a thriller (while at school) set in an underground crime city. After a recent visit to the spanking new Panchamukha Hanuman temple near Aluva in Kerala, I could say: "Hey, there is a precedent for such a city in the Patala Lanka of Ramayana!". Here is a quick summary of what is a remarkable side-track from the epic (perhaps not part of the primordial Valmiki version):

Mahiravana, the sorcerer-king of underground Patala Lanka, spirits away both Rama and Lakshmana, drugged and utterly limp, to offer as sacrificial victims to Kali; Hanuman tracks them down, kills the villain and saves the brothers. In a vital episode, Hanuman assumes the Panchamukha (five-faced) form to catch and gobble five bees simultaneously - the insects represent the five life-breaths (one of those breaths being well, the fart) of Mahiravana.

The Aluva temple is a deep undergound affair. At the bottom is a chamber with an idol of Hanuman in his fiercely protective Panchamukha form. Right next is a sculptural group showing Rama and Lakshmana lying tied and trussed like turkeys before a Kali idol. Photography is banned and I didn't dare to violate it. But from the side of the stairway leading down I caught this picture of Mahiravana entering his fiendish realm with the helpless brothers.

Even the adjoining Dattatreya temple (another 21st century creation) features many colorful sculptures that rise way above the level of mere 'calendar art' - indeed, one feature of Hinduism that has continued to impress me is its ability to keep finding new idioms of religious art and iconography. Here is a sample, featuring Agni and bestial allegorical figures representing the Vedas.

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A recent visit to Wellington Army Base at Coonoor brought up a bit of serendipity; one wandered onto and into the St George Church, a little 19th century Brit-built object complete with neat flying buttresses (not sure if such props were really needed in this quite modest-sized edifice) and a proper organ. Here is a bit of the woodworked vault that hovers over worshippers like a big trilobite:

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It was just the other day that Rekesh (him again!) told me about 'American Gothic', a painting I hadn't ever heard about:

Something about the painting - maybe the unusually long-faced an pensive male figure, maybe the calm air about it,...- reminded me of a more familiar masterpiece and I texted back: "get this feeling, if the Arnolfini Couple were to age, they would look like this pair!". "Very plausible!" came the reply.

And then, searching online, I saw this and several more pages that say similar things!!
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And today, Vimal wrote in about the Basquiat 'Skull' fetching a phenomenally high price. I am puzzled by the sheer scale of the deal, because, to me, plenty about this admittedly impressive painting is very derivative, especially from Picasso's Weeping Woman!
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And finally, here is yet another 21st century Hindu sculpture - built like a gorilla, this odd guardian figure crouches over the entrance to what looks like a minor shrine on the immense grounds of the Isha Foundation near Coimbatore.