Hassan is a lovely little town - actually I have no idea if it is lovely or little - but that's what it felt like the night we stayed there. We also got a little drunk, the lone girl in a roof-top beer bar sipping on a Budweiser. And hence the title.
But this post is really about the Belur and Halebidu temples - among the most wondrous things I have set eyes on.
It's always surprising what a second visit to a place reveals to you. Belur and Halebidu dazzled me in 2007, and almost exactly 10 years to the date later, I stood awestruck once again.
Imagine this. You are a sculptor. Not a bad one. Actually, you're known to be among the good ones in the kingdom. One morning, you and your sculptor friends are rounded up and told that you have to start on some sculptures for a temple - not just a temple, but the prettiest the world has seen. The king wants to build it to mark his latest greatest military conquest. You are happy for the king, like you'd be happy if Federer won Wimbledon for the umpteenth time. But you are very happy that you have this work now. What better for an artist than a 100-year project that you and your next few generations could work on together. You take your time; you let your imagination fly. You sculpt a donkey-faced girl. You imagine and carve out a 100 different hairstyles and dress styles. 'Today I will craft a playful monkey on the banana trees on Kailasa', you think. Tomorrow, you decide to experiment with a new 3-dimensional looking design for those decorative lintels. And yes, the work indeed goes on for more than a 100 years. Your son works on some of the sculptures with you. You die peacefully, knowing that you've done your bit, left your mark, made just that tiny dent. And your son will take it forward, maybe his son too.
And this joy, this sheer joy of a life of art done at art's pace for art's sake, this joy flows through every gorgeous curve of every statue in Belur and Halebid. The beauty is heart-stopping, and sometimes you forget to breathe. The detailing, the richness, it's so much to take. Overwhelming. You walk around in a stupor. How did this happen? How did all this happen? How is this possible?
Belur and Halebid are difficult to describe with adjectives other than overwhelming. The black, squat structures of the temple are misleading. They hide such a depth of beauty, such a wealth of imagination; I count myself very fortunate to have experienced it.
Note: Gorgeous images abound on Wikipedia and more images are a google search away. So you won't find any here. But here's one to whet your appetite.
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| Picture Courtesy - Wikipedia page on the Halebidu temple Link |
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