Around The World in a 60s Daze...: Kama Sutra for Dummies

Dear Family and Friends,

Khajuraho is said to be on the road from nowhere. To nowhere. But for tourists going to India, a trip to this remote area to see the village’s many famous temples has become as big a draw as has been the mandatory trek to Agra, to view the Taj Mahal, and to Varanasi, to visit the spiritual home of Hinduism.

My Bus From Gwalior to Jhansi

I rather reluctantly left my comfortable accommodation at the Rangniwas Palace Hotel and my illustrious host in Udaipur, and caught a train which took me through Jaipur, known as the Pink City for the extensive use of pink to colour buildings, and Agra and its Taj Mahal, to Gwalior where I then caught a bus to Jhansi to overnight on my way to Khajuraho. Through the train window the country side slides by, a hazy sky, shanties and shacks, fields of grain, women, most with bundles on their heads, but all in saris so colourful and so beautiful they seem to glow in the sun, naked or near naked children, and always piles of cow patties stacked up drying in the sun. I have read that 70% of domestic fuel in India is derived from this dried cow dung, being used both for heating and cooking.

Although it is not always visible to a visitor, the caste system, the relatively strict social hierarchy by which social classes are defined, is still very much operative in India. Certainly everyone you would meet could tell you which particular caste he or she is from. The task of fashioning the plate size patties is apparently only done by the Dalits, once called the untouchables, those people outside the system and for which all unpleasant jobs are reserved. Incidentally, now called the Scheduled Castes or Tribes, the Dalits account for nearly one quarter of the population, over 250,000,000 souls.

But before I continue, I can’t help but comment on the bus station at Gwalior. ‘Bus stations’ are, at best, a test. They can be just a pull off from the roadway, others are often a rutted lot, some have a terminal with bays. Always they are chaotic, jammed with travelers, vendors, tuk-tuks, taxis and the standard array of animals. All range from scruffy to filthy. The station at Gwalior distinguished itself. It is without doubt the most disgusting station I have ever had the misfortune to travel through. The unpaved lot was a quagmire of mud and shit, garbage was strewn about, a few piles had been raked together, some smoldered reeking of burning plastic. Three or four pigs were rooting amongst the piles; a desperate dog with a tumour on its belly the size of a grapefruit was licking a wound on its back leg. Vegetable vendors had their wares spread out in forlorn hopes of selling something, anything. I shall not forget my stop there. In my mind, I have renamed it more aptly ‘Squalior’.

Cow Patty Piles Drying

Until very recently one could only reach Khajuraho by bus. But in an effort to promote tourism in this area, India Rail has just opened a rail line to the village. It is a short 100km journey but a long 5 hour ride. Being a local train, only ‘general class’ seats are available, and although they were new coaches, the seats are simply metal slats. I watched as the locals stoically sat without any obvious discomfort for the whole trip. On my bony ass, I squirmed the full five hours. At each of the many stops, vendors would jump on, baskets filled with peanuts on their heads. Plain peanuts or peanuts masala (with added chopped onions, tomatoes, and cilantro) were on offer, delivered up in a sheet of newspaper. They would wander down the aisle singing out what sounded like “Aiyee, mopalee” or “Aiyee, mopalee masala”. Tantalizing, but I passed.

There are millions, hundreds of millions, of temples in India. As each temple is dedicated to a God or Goddess, and with 330,000,000 Hindu divinities, it is no wonder there are so many. They are everywhere, and all are exceedingly ornate, covered with carvings of all manner of figures, humans, animals, spirits, and mythological creatures. Many Hindu temples depict erotic figures, but the temples at Khajuraho doubtless have the most, they certainly are the best preserved, and they are decidedly the most explicit. Hence, tourists and travelers like me flock here.

Road Side Food Stop

Train From Mahoba to Khajuraho

Train Station Vendors

General Class Seating on Train

Khajuraho itself is just a village by Indian measurement, less than 20,000 people. The temples were built 1,000 years ago during the Chandela dynasty. There are three groups of temples, the most famous and most visited, is the Western Group which is in the very center of the village, just across the street from my hotel. There are a dozen or so temples in this group, some quite small but the largest, Kandariya Mahadev, is over 30 meters tall. All are made of sandstone without mortar, rather using precise mortice and tenon joints and the force of gravity to hold them together. They are formed by successive layers of higher and higher towers topped with a spire. Around the temples are bands of highly detailed stone artwork depicting all aspects of Hindu life 1,000 years ago. But the big draw here is the thousands of carvings of ‘aspara’, heavenly nymph or dancing maiden, and the ‘mithuna’, the erotic representations. In the context of modern day porn, the erotic figures are a bit tame, but every combination of coupling and position is featured somewhere on the temples, groups, lesbianism, homosexuality, even inter species gamboling.

The travel writer James McConnachie has described the carvings as "the apogee of erotic art": "Twisting, broad-hipped and high breasted nymphs display their generously contoured and bejewelled bodies on exquisitely worked exterior wall panels. These fleshy apsaras run riot across the surface of the stone, putting on make-up, washing their hair, playing games, dancing, and endlessly knotting and unknotting their girdles....Beside the heavenly nymphs are serried ranks of griffins, guardian deities and, most notoriously, extravagantly interlocked maithunas, or lovemaking couples."

Why here and for what reason are questions that have gone unanswered, but doubtless their remoteness is what prevented their destruction by the Muslim invaders who arrived in India soon after and who destroyed all idolatrous images they encountered. One explanation for their creation is that they were a how-to for young Brahmin boys, a kind of Kama Sutra for dummies. Whatever the reason, these temples are quite amazing and certainly worth seeing.

From Khajuraho I made my way to Varanasi for onward connections out of India and into Nepal. I first visited ‘Incredible India’ in 2002 on my trip around the world; at the time it was not one of the countries high on my ‘must visit’ list. But I have been dazzled by its sights, its people, its culture, and its history. And it certainly is easy to write about. I well remember standing in the airport in Trivandrum at the very south of India in 2002, about to board my flight to Sri Lanka, and looking down on the turmoil in the arrivals lounge below and thinking “Whooee India. This has been one hell of a ride. But you won’t see my sorry ass again.” Well of course I did return, both in 2006 and again now. Simply, no other place that I know offers such an unbelievable array of sights and experiences. And it has been great. But this time I think they really have seen my backside for the last time.

I hope you are all well. Oh, and for anyone interested, I have made extensive notes on the carvings and I have many more photographs. Just let me know. We are never too old to learn.

Merv.