Assassinated Memories
Miniaturist
always reminds me the novel of Orhan Pamuk - MY NAME IS RED. But never the less
Tamil Nadu has many number of cultural representation in the medium of arts. If
the renowned work of Thanjai Prakash's KALLAM is translated, it will provide an
insight about the miniaturists to the world audience. Kallam not only deals
with the miniaturist but also it literally explains about an art made through
colored glass pieces which prevailed in our past in the areas of Tanjore.
The
thoughts about these artists were awakened in me during the short trip I made
to Madurai in the recent times. I always had a fascination to visit Meenakshi
Amman temple. During my childhood I have heard this temple being referred as a
monumental puzzle and it has always intrigued me until I visited at the age of
eighteen.
Recalling
my first visit to Madurai was filled with personal work. It was around three at
night. The roads were empty with some night wanderers. I mistakenly got down in
a place and found it was Periyar Nilayam. Buses were always filled with
countable heads invariable of day and night. I was busy in my headphone
adhering to the bus route my friend was conveying in sleepy voice. At the end
of the call a Marathi family approached me asking the way to Meenakshi Amman
temple. I turned dumb to them. But the term monumental puzzle triggered the
buried desire within me and without any conscious of time I started to walk
towards the temple by the way said by one of the wanderers.
Again
the empty roads took my imagination back to the era when the temple was built. Roads
and the shops would have been the houses of the people. Mild illumination from
the street lights and the closed shutters of the shop paved my mind to feel the
night and the melodramatic expectation towards the shrine. The gigantic wall
and the amazing view of the north tower mesmerized me. I was standing still at
the crowd less maasi veedhi1. Since I was at
the back of those Marathi family police questioned all of us about our roaming.
Words didn’t bother my moment. I was just seeing the wall and the unimaginable
ecstasy was aroused about the statues behind the wall which were about to be
seen once in my lifetime.
After
a gap of two years again a chapter got opened. This time confirmation within me
about the visit to the temple converged in a practical sense on a reddish
evening time. Opened shops, fast moving people and the police men again
reminded me the night I was in the north tower. The friend I went along with
was Sabitha. She was well known about the temple through her mom. From the
time we entered the temple she started saying about the fascinating stories
that she was aware of.
Every
temple’s history has a myth, magic, divinity and a story. All these things have
been formed to construct a peaceful mind and to attain an ideal society with preset
values. These values were educated to people by means of various folk tales. On
the other side of these tales an unimaginable fears have been culminated in the
hearts of the people. They imagined the situations, created reasons for both
good and bad which were attributed to god, but as a whole they were satisfied. These
entire things turned as pawns in the hands of political bureaucrats.
Sabitha
spotted me a statue. They were two in number, looking like neither an arrogant
servant nor a vigorous warrior. These types of statues could be seen in various
parts of Tamil Nadu as kaaval theivam which literally means “Guardian spirits”.
I couldn’t remember their names exactly. She said once people used to throw
butter on the faces of these statues. It’s mainly because the incarnations are
filled with anger. It may lead to famine of the entire place where they reside.
In order to pacify them people used butter. I interrupted her by questioning
instead of throwing can’t they apply it on the entire body? She smiled and said
there is restraint that human bodies should not touch those statues. If it
happens then the cause of the anger will be towards the person who broke the
limitation. She continued telling distinct tales for many of the statues.
Once
there was a worldwide voting for the Seven Wonders of the World in which
Meenakshi Amman temple was also on nomination. She told that at that time this
ritual of throwing butter at the statues were prohibited by the officials
proclaiming that the shrine must be clean and tidy. Since then this ritual
turned into a tale. I felt angered on
hearing this, as we were not preserving the heritage of this temple for which many
of the citizens voted. Now if you get chance to visit the temple one could see the
hanuman in a pillar filled with orange paste (orange colored powder mixed with
water).
Aayiramkaal
mandapam within the temple is an antique place where many bronze sculptures of
various reigns have been preserved in glass boxes. But the ill-cultured people
have thrown their photos and paper bits within these boxes. Reasons for their
mentality seem to be like a morning fog. I even
saw a debit card within the box. Where their mind went wrong? What made them to
be so ignorant? Where were those diplomats who ordered to maintain the temple
clean and tidy? I’m ashamed to identify
these people who are from the same crowd who voted during the “Wonder” filled
election.
The monumental
puzzle that were nurturing within me all these years until I got to the temple was
solved in a simple manner. Ways within the temple were blocked. People can
enter and come out in the same way as simple as they can. This may seem like a
trivial complaint, but it is a matter of Tamil Nadu’s architecture and pride.
Even in the recent book fair held at Chennai I saw many people buying books
based on the construction aspects of temples which was released by the
Government itself.
Monuments
and the temples are not the places to be preserved at the times of emergency. They
are our heritages. By neglecting to preserve the temples and transferring the
folk tales to our generations, our roots will get vanished. Do we need another voting
by the whole world to maintain one of our temples? Also, Meenakshi Amman temple is not the only
shrine we are enjoying as our heritage. Every district, village, city has countless
temples with histories/myths at the back of those architecture. They are in
need of people to share their histories and myths. If not they will soon turn
out to be mere buildings made of bricks and powders.
When
a background or the past or the history is unknown, thy being may be called an
orphan. Is that term only for the human race ?
P.S: 1 – It is a street named after Tamil month maasi.
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