Warning: Long, nerdy post ahead.
Another Saturday, another day trip. Same old, same old. The thing is, when you live in India the "same old, same old" is awesome.
This week we went to
Kanchipuram (or
here), which is famous for its temples and its silk weaving. We spent the morning exploring three of the town's hundreds of temples, took a break for a great South Indian lunch, and then spent some quality time in a silk shop. I think we'll be going back. I think you're going to want to join us.
It took a little under two hours to get to Kanchipuram, mostly because we got lucky and didn't have a lot of traffic. The majority of the trip was spent getting out of Chennai, which is HUGE (coming up on 10 million people in the metro area).
My favorite sight on the way out of town was a big sign that said (in English and Tamil) "Long Live Classical Divine Tamil!" The people of Tamil Nadu are super proud of their history and make it a point of pride to remain a bit apart from the rest of the nation. Think Texas or Quebec. Don't even think of trying to get by on Hindi around here. The otherwise friendly people will not be impressed.
One cool thing about the Indian countryside: You can be driving along through nothing but brush and rice paddies when you'll suddenly see a massive monument stuck right smack in the middle of nowhere. This one is Shiva, whose vehicle is the bull.
When we got to Kanchipuram we found a bathroom (oh, my ...) and then started exploring. Kanchi was a capital of the Pallava empire (4th to 9th century) and was also important to the Chola and the Vijayanagar kings. It's been a center of Hindu spirituality for centuries, which is why it's peppered with so many temples. Some say there were once more than a thousand temples here. Being limited by time and children, we concentrated on three of them.
Our first stop was the
Kamakshi Amman Temple. Here's the
gopuram over the main gate.
Inside, we met this lovely temple elephant and her extremely grumpy keeper.
Evie got a blessing from the elephant, which her keeper seemed to be OK with, but when our friend Cheryl (in the photo) approached the elephant the man started yelling at us and motioning us to move on. None of us could figure out what the problem was, and no one else seemed to be bothered by our presence. It was a little weird. I've noticed, though, that attitudes toward non-Hindus in the temples vary widely. While most people are happy to see us, as long as we're exploring respectfully, there are a few who would rather keep things to Hindus alone.
Some of the temples open the shrines and occasionally even the inner sanctum to visitors. Others keep the inner sanctum off limits but allow visitors into some of the lesser shrines. Many allow visitors to enter only the courtyard. I can understand wanting to keep sacred sites off limits. I'm not sure that was the keeper's issue with us, but it's a logical supposition.
The Kamakshi Amman Temple is famous for the gold overlay on some of its
gopurams, like the one on the far right in this photo.
This temple has a wishing tree like the one in
Mylapore. The wooden cradles are wishes for babies, and the stacks of stones are for houses or wealth. If you look closely at this photo (above and to the right of Johnny's head), you'll see that someone's tied an empty toilet paper roll to the tree. If anyone has a clue what this signifies, please enlighten me. The women in the purple saris to the left of the tree are likely part of a pilgrimage.
Here's a shot of me and the kids with our frequent partners in exploration: Suyash, Cheryl and Janna. Janna's friend/stalker (I mean that in a nice way -- sort of) Benjamin and one of his friends "ran into us" at one of the temples and joined us for the rest of the day. It's OK. We like him. You'll notice in this photo that I'm trying to hold both Evie and Samuel. This is because you have to remove your shoes to enter the temple complex, and those stones are HOT. If you don't keep moving, it really starts to hurt.
Our second stop was the
Sri Ekambaranathar Temple, which I found especially fascinating. It's one of five Shiva temples that represent an element -- earth in this case. The
lingam at the heart of the temple (we weren't allowed into the inner sanctum) is made of sand. There are ancient carved stone pillars throughout the huge complex.
Here and there were alcoves or rooms housing shrines or stone carvings. It reminded me a little of old Catholic cathedrals, where alcoves around the nave house relics. Speaking of relics, this temple is famous for its holy mango tree. Here's a photo of wood from a mango tree that's supposedly 3,500 years old.
As I said, the Sri Ekambaranathar Temple is huge. We spent a lot of time wandering corridors like this one.
There were painted
kolams down some of the corridors, and one corridor had a series of painted wooden animals and deities. The shrine you can just see at the end of this hall was open to visitors, and I was interested to see that the inside of the shrine had mirrors around the walls to symbolize eternity.
There's also a living holy mango tree. Here it is on the right with its own little
gopuram and a pathway so that people can circle it (clockwise, of course).
You're supposed to pass around temples and shrines clockwise so that the right side of your body, what's considered the clean side, is always facing the sacred object. Counterclockwise movement is a no-no at both Hindu and Buddhist shrines.
You're probably wondering what makes this mango tree holy. The story is that
Parvati came to the tree and worshipped
Shiva in the form of a lingam made of sand. She embraced the lingam to protect it from a rising river, which pleased the god so much that he married her. This is only one of several stories about her marriage to Shiva, though, so I don't entirely understand how it all fits together.
I found this sign near the tree kind of amusing.
And here's a picture of my boys not plucking the leaves of the holy mango tree. Believe me, the priest had his eye on them.
The tree attracts a lot of pilgrims, many of whom tie wishes at the entrance to the shrine.
One of the pillared halls was lined with
lingams, which are symbols of Shiva. You can read more about lingams
here, but easy blushers should be warned that a popular interpretation is that the lingam is a phallic symbol.
Samuel met a new friend outside one of the shrines, and this naturally called for a photo shoot. Notice that the wall behind us is covered with swastikas. One thing that was hard for me to get used to here is the prominence of this symbol. It's an ancient and important symbol in Hinduism (you can read about it
here and
here), but the fact that the Nazis hijacked it has given it bad connotations that I just can't seem to shake. You run into it everywhere you turn, though. It's in temples and kolams and on jewelry and people's foreheads.
All of the temples we visited had huge gates like these ones. Check out the stone doorstop.
The last temple we visited was the
Kailasanatha Temple, which dates to around the same time as the Shore Temple in
Mahabalipuram. It was built by the Pallavas in the 7th century and is the oldest temple in Kanchipuram. I was really impressed with how well it's being preserved.
We had just wandered around two huge temples, so this one felt more intimate. The kids really enjoyed exploring the lion pillars that form little alcoves around the temple courtyard. Samuel would roar at one of the lions then ask to be lifted up into one of the tiny rooms behind the pillars. He did this again and again and again ... He's 2, you know.
The temple was painted at some point in its long history, and you can see bits of color in the carvings and especially in the more protected alcoves.
John was thrilled to find some examples of ancient script.
The temple is still in use, and the priest in the inner sanctum didn't seem too keen on us entering, even though the guide outside had said it was OK. We didn't argue and stepped back outside. I could really feel the "ancientness" of this place. The Lonely Planet guide says this temple is impressive for its "weight of historical significance." I'm not exactly sure what that means, but it seems a good description of the general feel of the place. The only drawback was that we were there at midday and the stones were almost unbearably hot. Notice in this photo that everyone is trying to stand in the narrow shadow along the outer courtyard. We sprinted over the sunny spots. It was insanely hot on the feet. Next time I might bring socks and see if that helps.
All of the temples in Kanchipuram close from 12:30 to 4 p.m., so this one had to be our last temple stop. It's probably a good thing, though, because I think the kids might have died if we'd marched them around another one. Actually, they were remarkably good on this trip ... minimal whining, lots of interest shown in the sites, no illness. It was a nice trip.
We had lunch at Saravana Bhavan (South Indian for "yummy") and then stopped at one of the thousands of silk shops in town. Our all-knowing driver, Ashok, took us to Sree Swamy Silk House, because it's government approved (so we're less likely to be fleeced) and because that's where he's taken everyone else he's ever driven to Kanchipuram. We need no other reason.
The shop was a really interesting stop. The business has been in the owner's family for four generations, and he's preparing his son (who's studying at top fashion houses in Italy) to be the fifth-generation owner.
He took us behind the store front to see a sari being woven on one of his hand looms. The complexity of the setup was just astounding.
Kanchipuram silk saris are famous for their durability, because each thread is actually three strands of mulberry silk. They also almost always contain
zari, which is silk thread wrapped with real gold or silver. The sari you can see on the loom has wide borders woven with zari.
I can't imagine threading this loom. The owner told us it takes several days to set up the loom for even a simple sari, and then it takes several weeks to weave it. Saris in some of their more complex designs take four months to complete.
The weavers use these hand-punched cards to "program" the sari design into the loom. The more complex the design, the more cards are used.
There was an old winding wheel sitting under the loom. It's used to wind the silk thread onto big bobbins.
We watched a weaver working the loom. You can see in these pictures that the sari is a simple one, with all of the zari decoration in the gold borders. I'd love to see the loom set up for one of the more ornate designs.
 |
| The shuttle |
The kids were really fascinated by the weaving, especially Evie. I wouldn't be surprised to see her go into the arts when she grows up. She loves beautiful things, sounds and colors, and she seems interested in how they're produced. We had to drag her away from the loom.
After learning about silk weaving, we spent quite a lot of time in the shop, where prices ranged from 1,000 rupees (about $20) all the way to 80,000 and more. The owner told us that the less expensive saris are still handmade on the looms, but they're made from lower quality silk and from false zari (meaning that the threads are covered in plastic rather than actual gold and silver). His lower quality saris went from 1,000 to 4,000 rupees, and his higher quality (better silk, real zari) started in the 5,000 rupee range. (Mom and Kathy: Prices are for your planning purposes ...) Janna, Cheryl and I looked at a lot of saris, but didn't buy any this time. John and I did buy a gorgeous table runner, though. It's made of green silk with gold zari, and it has a pattern of elephants down the middle.
There was a group of women in the shop sitting on the floor mats and looking at saris for a wedding. In a traditional Indian wedding, the bride's family buys new saris for female family members of both the bride and the groom (extended family members!). The bride's sari will be incredibly ornate. Ashok spent over 30,000 rupees for his daughter's sari. I love watching the buying process. Shopkeepers usually show saris by unfolding them onto a long counter or floor mat. This is quite the operation, since a sari is 6 meters long. Shoppers end up with an enormous pile of fabric in front of them, and if you decide you're not interested in one of the saris, the shopkeeper will toss it aside to be folded later.
The group we saw on Saturday already had a huge pile of saris cast aside. Just as we were about to leave the shop, the salesman tossed another sari onto the heap. It was one of those slow-motion moments ... The most beautiful sari I've ever seen, the fabric blown slightly by air from the ceiling fans, slowly settled at the top of a mountain of fabric ... OK, you get the idea.
Janna and I picked up the sari and searched in vain for a price tag. Bad sign, but I had to know. The fabric felt as gorgeous as it looked. It was a deep shade of red woven into a design with a slightly lighter shade. There was zari woven throughout, but it wasn't at all gaudy. I was imagining myself wearing this to a Marine Ball or some other fancy event. I was calculating in my mind how much I'd be willing to pay ... 20,000? Would I even go to 30,000, as much as I paid for my own wedding dress?
Well, it cost 65,000 rupees. That's right. $1,300. And I didn't buy it, of course, even though the owner told me he would hand over certification for the amount of gold in the sari. It would be an investment, he said. Sigh.
Despite the lost sari, Kanchipuram made a great little day trip. We even got home in time for dinner.
