Dreams

Shaheen, the class teacher, announced… You are here in school today as you are seniors and have your major examination coming up soon. The younger ones have been given off due to the impending war like situation. Your safety is our main concern and if you get to hear the siren, immediately leave everything and rush to the basement. Our school is in the vicinity of the naval office which may be a target of the state’s enemies. While no one will bomb the school but collateral damages can happen. Moreover, our army, navy and air force are all on full alert to repel any enemy intrusion into our territory. These are difficult times and we all have to make sacrifices for our beloved country.

The students all shouted… Yes teacher… in unison. While the teacher started reading from a new chapter in Persian history, four girls in the last row looked at each other and smiled. One of them quietly opened her desk and passed on a magazine to the friend sitting next to her. The one who got the magazine, placed the magazine on the inside of the history text book and gently flipped through the pages, all the while with an impish smile on her face. Having reached the end of the magazine, she took a look at the teacher who was teaching with great nationalistic fervour about the glorious past, and attempted to pass the same to the extended arm on the adjoining desk where the other two friends were seated. Despite having done the routine many times as the trained relay runners do in athletics, the baton sometimes falls… the magazine slipped and fell on the floor with a sound that everyone heard.

What is that? The teacher exclaimed and got up immediately from her seat and saw the magazine lying on the floor between two desks. She walked to the place and picked up the magazine and returned to her desk where she flipped through the first few pages. She covered her mouth in disgust; her eyes had a look of disbelief and dismay as she was taken to a world of blasphemy printed in the finest of art paper. 

Who brought this magazine into the classroom? I want the culprit to step forward. Otherwise, I will punish the entire class.

There was a pin drop silence in the class room and all the girls put up their hands together as if admitting that all were part of this misdemeanour.

Oh… so now you girls are trying to protect your friends thinking that by collectively owning the blame, you will all be saved. No… that will not happen. I want to give the real culprit, who is a coward and hiding somewhere in the class, one last chance to admit and step forward. If she does not do it, I will report the matter to the principal and this matter will go to the holy council whose retribution is something I need not have to explain. So, if you want all your friends to face the whips and stones, you can stay quiet or else, step forward and admit. Save your friends, O you coward and begetter of pestilence of the lowest order into the holy precincts of the madrasa, may you and your family rot in hell.

Suddenly, all the eyes in the class room moved to the rear as four girls stood up. They were the inseparable quartet of Rabia, Arzoo, Roshan and Fatima who spoke up….

It was us, teacher, who got the Vogue magazine to school. The others are all innocent so please spare them the punishment. We admit that having possession of this magazine and bringing the same to the school was completely wrong on our part. We are sorry for the incident and would request you to pardon us this one time. This shall not be repeated and we are ready to do penance that may be required under the law. 

Penance... you think this blasphemy merits your merely doing public service. No way. This is too severe a sin and if I were to let you get away lightly, the matter will surely reach the higher ups and I will have to suffer the consequences. They will not even spare my family. I am sorry girls but I have to report you to the school principal and the education board who alone can deliver their judgement. It is way beyond me to take law into my own hands.

The teacher led the girls to the principal’s room from where the other children and staff could distinctly overhear the shouting of the lady whose temper and adherence to religious laws were known to all. She did not spare any opportunity to demonstrate to the students and her higher ups her strictness, something which had paid her rich dividends. She had already been recommended for promotion to the education board and would soon be moving into her new role. This was another opportunity to show her mettle.

Take these infidels and lock them up in the cattle shed for now. I will be sending the letter to the education board and authority for religious matters asking them to step in and take a decision on the level of punishment these four girls ought to get. Shaheen, you call up the parents of these girls and say that they will not be returning home till the judgement is passed and they have served their punishment.

The girls were all in tears and no amount of apology worked with the principal. Shaheen teacher walked the four girls to the cattle shed that was a little distance away from the main school building and locked them from outside. There were a few animals kept in the shed and no one ever cleaned up the place. The stench there was unbearable and the girls felt that they would meet with their creator even before the religious police could punish them. They quietly sat in one corner hoping that someone would open the gates to at least allow some fresh air inside.

Rabia shouted at her friends… I got the book to school. Why did you all take the blame? Only one would have faced the stones and the whips, why should you three suffer?

Arzoo quickly cut Rabia… Who paid you to buy the magazine in the black market? We paid which means we are as guilty as you. We swim or sink together, today and tomorrow. So, no more talk on this subject.

Fatima smiled approvingly and said... It is so hot and suffocating inside here. Let us take off our hijabs and we will feel somewhat better. If they are anyway planning to hang us, they might as well add this crime to our devil’s scorecard.

All laughed and took off their hijabs and once again sat facing each other. Roshan spoke in a calm voice… Now that our death is certain, and not too far, let us speak of our dreams. Like, what will we do if we survive this day?

For me, it is an easy decision, said Rabia. The country now appears more like this shed. It is dirty, enclosed and suffocating. I will go off to Paris where my aunt lives and will become a fashion model. Someday, you girls will see me on the cover of Vogue and tell your boyfriends and husbands… that’s my friend! I have been practising my moves as well. Do you want to see?

Yes, others agreed. Rabia acted as if she were wearing high heels and a beautiful evening gown. She walked up and down the small and smelling enclosure with the other three cheering her all the way…. Rabia, you’re the best and you will set the Seine aflame once you land there.

I want to be a teacher, not like the mean Shaheen or the dreaded Princi, a good one, said Roshan. A teacher who the students love and respect. I will go to college and do my Masters in literature and history. While I would love to go to Oxford or Cambridge in the UK but that may not be possible. I will make the best of the opportunity this country has to offer.

Fatima announced… I will go to college here and work with the other student leaders to bring about change in the way the country is being managed. My focus would be to lead women to seek their freedom and respect. If it means, facing immense odds and making sacrifices, I will be willing to do it. I will not be cowed down by anyone till the dream is achieved. I will make sure the country we leave behind for our children is a better one.

Noble thoughts Fatima and I wish you all the best in making this dream come true, said Arzoo. I dream of going to India and working in the movies. I have been seeing their films and am in love with the way they make their movies with songs, dance and so much of romance. It’s a world of dreams. They are much better than the Hollywood ones which are dark, gory and boring. I also have the talent to make it to Bollywood… I can act, sing and also dance.

Oh, you dance as well. Show us some moves.

Here you go… Arzoo put her one hand on her chin as if acting coy and with her other hand started moving it in jerky manner as if it were raining and began singing…

Bijlee girane, main toh aayi
Kehte hain mujhko, hawa hawai
Hawa hawai, Hawa hawai

Super Arzoo… you have passed the screen test and we are offering you a movie with Ranveer Singh…. Shouted the three girls who just could not stop laughing at Arzoo’s act.

In the midst of all the happiness, the dreaded siren blew three times… the enemy was attacking but they had no place to rush and hide. They were stuck in the dilapidated shed which seemed to shake with the sound of the explosions that the girls could hear. The girls held each other’s hands and sat down in a huddle. The sounds of the explosions grew louder and closer to where they were and then they heard the biggest explosion and the roof came crashing down. Everything went blank and dark thereafter.

In some time, the ambulances rushed to the school. All the rescue workers tried entering the main school premises which had been completely flattened. Drills were used and the rescuers tried finding some evidence of remaining life, but there was none. All the teachers and students who had gone to the basement had been crushed beneath the big structure above and the destructive power of the missile had sucked out life from the area.  All seemed lost when a dog started barking where the shed lay broken down. A few rescuers now went towards the shed and started removing the rubble. In no time they saw some girls lying there with some semblance of life left in them and realised that a miracle had happened. Other people were called over and quickly the place was cleared and the girls were put in ambulances and sent to a nearby hospital. After a couple of days, four mothers were waiting by the bed side of their respective girls who were bandaged all over. The hospital bulletin showed that one of them needed an amputation of one leg, the second was on life support system, the third had lost an arm and the fourth, her sight.

“War does not determine who is right, only who is left,” and what is left in the boulevard of broken dreams. 

Dil hai chota sa, chhoti si aasha
Masti bhare mann ki, bholi si aasha
Chaand taaron ko, chhoone ki aasha
Aasmanon mein, udhne ki aasha…

SS

PS. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and events are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Game On

I am not going anywhere.

Biren, why don’t you understand, things are really bad. We need to go to Uncle Angamba’s village where our people are in majority. Father is calling us again and again.

Sonam, this is where I was born and have lived all my life. This is where I have all my friends since childhood. This is where I played football for the first time and this is where I truly belong.

You are right but the current situation is not conducive. Brothers are turning against each other. There is loot, arson, killings… people are getting slaughtered. Once things normalise, we can come back, but today we must leave.

Your brother Sonam is right. Biren, there is no time to waste. Just take a few essentials and come. Others from the village are also leaving and moving together will provide for protection. Do not carry any sharp objects. We will go in peace and will not get aggressive at anyone…a soft but stern voice from another end of the room.

It was Laishram, Biren’s father, and the son did not have the heart to argue with him. He picked up a few things from the cupboard and packed them in this kit bag containing his football shoe and jersey. For him, there was nothing more precious than his football kit. He then went out where he found about twenty of the neighbours were waiting, all looking sad and had fear in their eyes. For all had heard the gory stories of mayhem that was happening on the hills and in the valleys of Manipur.

In the cover of darkness, the fearful twenty moved slowly but steadily. They had to go about fifteen odd kilometres. Like in war times of old, it seemed the rioters were also following a standard play time for their war games. They would be playing blood sport from sunrise to sunset. In the late evenings and night, they usually allowed people to cross over to buy essentials and move from one place to another. This was also the time when the police and armed forces took to patrolling.

The group would have done about five odd kilometres when the eerie silence of the night was broken by a huge war cry and a bunch of people with swords and machetes ran out towards the escaping people who turned around to flee to safety. Just when they turned, another wave of shouting people with arms raised rushed towards them from the other side. This looked like a perfect ambush. The refugees now froze and waited for the onrushing killers from both the sides. Some raised their hands pleading to the killers to spare them and others started praying to their god to save them. Gods must have been sleeping at night and killers had their own reasons to complete the task. Who knows, they too, may have lost some of their loved ones to people from the other side similarly? One man with a sword rushed at Biren who fell down on his knees as the sharp edge cut through his left arm and blood oozed out. Biren knew that the next strike would be his last. Just then his killer looked at his victim and shouted… Are you Biren Singh?

Yes, he said.

The killer called his other folks… Arrey, Biren, the football player is here!

The frenzied mob who had picked on the other escapees as their targets, stopped in their acts and all moved towards him. Biren did not understand the reason for this strange behaviour. He could not remember having hurt so many people in life who would want to retaliate en masse.

One of the killers with a machete in hand from which blood was dripping shouted… Prove it that you are Biren!

A profusely bleeding Biren pointed towards his bag which fallen near the place where he stood. The other man picked up the bag, unzipped it and turned it upside down. Out came a few clothes, a set of football shoes, a folder and a tin box that opened up as it hit the ground. A few medals fell out of the box which the man had picked up. Another person picked up the folder and opened the same to find newspaper clippings and photographs that all had Biren’s face prominently displayed with the trophies and medals.

This man is definitely Biren, the captain of the state’s football team.  Take him to safety immediately…. No one will attack him now.

A couple of men caught Biren’s injured arm and tied a cloth tightly to stop any further bleeding. They then pushed him gently towards a house nearby but Biren resisted their initiative. He shouted… I will not go alone. What am I without my family?

Which of these people are part of your family?

All of these people are part of my extended family… Biren spoke and looked around him. Now only ten of the twenty were standing… all badly injured but alive. He saw that his younger brother Sonam was still around but could not see his father, mother or Anuobi, his loving sister. A man who appeared to be the leader of the killer pack shouted with full authority…Ok. No more of these people are to be killed. Take all those alive to safety and give them medical aid. Make sure someone keeps constant guard. Captain Biren has to be protected at all costs. He is our hero and state's treasure and no harm can ever come on to him.

All the injured and alive folks were taken to a school premise where they were given first aid, water and biscuits. The survivors sat around Biren and looked at him as their saviour. Not a word was spoken. The people stayed there for three days and nights when the news trickled in that peace had been restored in the city. They had also physically recovered to some degree but were mentally completely devastated. Each of the families had lost someone or another… a brother, a sister, a mother, a father or a child. They had not even got the opportunity to give them a burial. All had been cleared from the places where they had fallen by the local authorities, just the way they do to daily waste.

Biren and his people started a long walk back to their homes. When they reached there, they were in for a shock. Their homes had been reduced to ashes. They just stood there for a while and then walked closer to their homes to see if they could pick anything that could be salvaged. Sadly, nothing remained. The other people in the vicinity remained in the safety of their homes and did not care to offer shelter, food or water to the people who had long been their extended families. Today, they were complete strangers. The despondent people, with nowhere to go, decided to once again undertake the journey to their uncle’s village where they still had relatives living.

Biren and Sonam stayed back at their uncle’s house. He was treated at a hospital for the arm that had been injured in the ghastly attack on the saddest night of his life. After recovery, he started working in his uncle’s furniture workshop. Sonam returned to college where he represented the university team and the second division team. Biren never touched the ball again and he never even went to see Sonam play.

After almost six years, the brothers were delighted to hear a piece of good news. They got a letter from the government which said that all those who had lost their houses in the riots could go back to the same addresses. The houses had been rebuilt and they would be handed over to the rightful owners or their legal heirs. The brothers took some of the available papers and along with their uncle went to the designated office.  After a couple of rounds of meeting, they were able to get the ownership papers and keys. The brothers shifted to their house, named it Anuobi and put up a big picture of their parents at the entrance.

While he never forgot the tragedy, time acted as the best medicine over the cuts and bruises of the mind. The old neighbours gradually the brothers with warmth, invited them to their homes and at local festivities. The acrimony of that one phase in life had given way to peace and joy in the area and the brothers were happy in their new lives. The divisions of race, religion, caste and creed had slowly dissolved and the scars too had healed with time, protected under thick, dried scabs. Over time only a few marks remained.

One day, the man who had identified him on the fateful day came and met Biren.  

Brother, we would like you to coach our football team for a tournament happening in a month from now. It is a very prestigious tournament and teams from all over the state are expected to participate. We have some good and talented players but, somehow, they are unable to settle down as a coordinated and a winning team. We need a good coach- cum- manager and there is no one better than you to do the job. And we also want Sonam to play in the team.

Thank you for the offer but I have completely given up on football since the last six years. I will ask Sonam to play but please excuse me.

Biren da, we have boys from all races and communities in the team. Many of them are from this neighbourhood. If they play and win, it will help the boys find slots in bigger teams and their lives will change. The name of the colony will be in news and it will bring cheer to all of us here.

Biren looked up at the man whose people had taken away his parents and sister but then remembered him for having given him a second lease of life. He closed his eyes and remembered his father, the man who instilled into him his love for football. He would take him to see local matches and encourage him to keep playing. What would he have done today…he thought and soon he got his answer. He smiled back at the waiting man and nodded his head. For him football was his true love and religion and he had just been offered one more chance to get back to life… only football could be the way to have a life of happiness and peace.

Next day, Biren went to the market to buy a new set of football shoes and jersey. In the evening, he walked to the playground and shouted aloud…

Boys…run four rounds of the field in good speed and then we will do free hand exercises. 

Game on!

SS

NB. Inspired by a story I saw om Amazon Prime 

Of Temples and Myths woven in Silk

All my life I knew Kanchipuram because of the famous silk sarees the women in my home would love to buy at Nalli’s and, secondly, for the attention the Sankaracharya of Kanchi Peeth would attract by his utterances from time to time. Then one day in the December of ‘25, we happened to take a day’s trip to this wonderful city and realised how little I knew.

There are two versions of the etymology of the word Kanchipuram. According to the first one, Kanchipuram is a Tamil name formed by combining two words, "kanchi" and "puram," together meaning "the city of kaanchi flowers". The second one is more fascinating. According to it, the Sanskrit the word is split into two: ka and anchi. Ka means Brahma, anchi means worship and puram means the place. Therefore, Kanchipuram stands for the place where Varadharaja Perumal or Vishnu was worshipped by Brahma.

Kanchipuram is often referred to as the "City of Thousand Temples" dating back to the 2nd century BCE. The city served as the historic capital for the Pallavas (6th–9th centuries) and later as an important city for the Cholas, the Pandyas, the Vijayanagara and the Carnatic kingdoms before becoming a part of the British India. The Hindus, both Vaishanavites and Saivites, regard Kanchipuram to be one of the seven holiest cities in India, the Sapta Puri. The Garuda Purana says that these seven cities, including Kanchipuram are providers of moksha, that is, where a human being can achieve liberation from the cycle of birth, death and rebirth.

Our first port of call was the famous Kamakshi Amman Temple. It is said that the temple may have been founded in the 5th-8th century CE by the Pallava kings , further developed by the Cholas in the 14th century and by the  Vijayanagara dynasty in the 18^th CE.

This temple is also known as Kamakoti Nayaki Kovil and is dedicated to the goddess Kamakshi, one of the highest forms of Parvati. It is also one of the Shakti Peetham where Sati’s navel is said to have fallen. The goddess gets its name from Kama, that means Love and Akshi means Eyes. Put simply, it is the Goddess with Loving Eyes. Unlike other temples where the deity is in a standing or walking posture, Kamakshi is seated in a padmasana and is flanked by the trinity of Shiva, Vishnu, and Brahma. We had an excellent darshan of the Goddess and walked around the temple complex at leisure.

Just outside the Kamakshi Amman Temple is the Sri Kanchi Kamakoti Peetham, also called the Sri Kanchi Matham. According to the Kanchi Matha's tradition, Adi Shankaracharya (509 BCE to 477 BCE) founded the Kanchi Kamakoti Peetham in 482 BCE. There is a temple inside the matha which is said to be the final resting place of Adi Shankaracharya. We were not able to get the darshan of the current head of the Kanchi Matha as he was travelling outside. The place is very serene and walking around here is easy as compared to the push and pull you often encounter in the temple complexes.

We then went to the Ekambareswarar or Ekambaranathar Temple which is dedicated to Shiva. You can see the gopuram which is 59 metres (194 ft) tall, from a long way off. The gopurams in Kanchipuram were in cream or white shades as compared to the colourful ones we saw at Madurai. However, the sculptures on them telling stories from epics and Hindu mythologies were common. The temple is one of five called Pancha Bhoota Sthalams, which represent the manifestation of the five prime elements of nature and Shiva is worshipped as Ekambareswarar representing the earth.

The temple dates back to at least 600 CE with significant contributions from Pallava, Chola, and Vijayanagara rulers. Legend has it that once Parvati, the consort of Shiva, wanted to expiate herself from sin by doing penance under a mango tree near Vegavati River. In order to test her devotion Shiva sent fire on her. Parvati prayed to the god Vishnu. Vishnu brought the Moon whose rays cooled down the tree and Parvati. Shiva again sent the River Ganga to disrupt Parvati's penance. Parvati convinced Ganga that since they were sisters, she should not harm her. Parvati worshipped a Shiva Linga out of sand to please Shiva. Ultimately, Shiva appeared before her as Ekambareswarar or "Lord of Mango Tree".

Sahasra Lingam-1008 lingams

The sanctum sanctorum contains the lingam along with the image of Shiva and Parvati sitting together. There are granite images of the 63 Nayanmars around the first precinct. The temple's inner most precinct is decorated with Shivalingams, one of which is a Sahasra Lingam with 1,008 Siva lingams sculpted on it.

We then moved to the Sri Vardharaja Perumal Kovil which is a temple dedicated to Vishnu. The name Vardharaja means bestower of boons and Vardharaja Swami bestows peace, prosperity, knowledge, health and wealth to those who seek. This temple is one of the biggest temple complexes in Tamil Nadu. There are 32 shrines, 19 vimanams (towers), 389 pillared halls and sacred tanks some of which located outside the complex. Apart from the main stone idol, the temple has the wooden image of Varadharajaswamy made of Atthi or the fig tree and preserved under water in a secret chamber. It is brought out for worship once every 40 years.

There are many legends associated with the origin of the temple. According one, Brahma, the Hindu god of creation, separated with his wife Saraswati over a misunderstanding. He performed the ashvamedha sacrifice, seeking boons from Vishnu. Vishnu, pleased by the devotion, came out from under the earth as a boar and reunited Saraswati with Brahma. Another legend states that the disciples of the sage Gautama were cursed to become lizards. They resided in the temple, and were relieved of the curse by the divine grace of Vishnu. There is a panel in the temple where the two golden lizards are depicted in the roof of the temple. This was the only place where we had to stand long in a queue and standing before us was a lady whose son was undergoing cricket trials for Tamil Nadu under 19. Having had a good darshan and been able to touch the lizards on the roof, hopefully the mother’s prayers would have had a positive impact on the child’s sporting career.

Our final visit was to the oldest temple in the city, the Kailasanathar Temple or the "Lord of Kailasa" Temple. The temple construction was done around 700 CE and the Pallava kings Narasimhavarman II and his son, Mahendravarman III, are credited for the same. This is a UNESCO monument and preserved very well.

The Kailasanathar Temple in Kancheepuram is embodiment of magnificence in stone. It is the finest examples of classical Dravidian architecture; the temple emanates unmatched charm and elegance. Dedicated to Lord Shiva, the temple is square-planned. There is a grand entrance hall, a splendid gathering hall, the sanctum sanctorum which is topped with a four-storey Vimana. There are nine shrines around the main sanctum, seven outside and two inside, with each shrine depicting different forms of Shiva. There are 58 of these smaller shrines. The innermost pathway of the temple circles the idol of Kailasanathar or Lord Shiva and signifies the entrance and exit of a person from paradise.

Having done the spiritual part of the day trip and a sumptuous lunch, we now turned our attention to the Kanjivaram sarees.  We wanted to see a loom where the famous Kanjivaram saree was being crafted and were fortunate to see one. Kanchipuram sarees, originating from Tamil Nadu over 400 years ago, are renowned for their durable mulberry silk and heavy gold zari, often featuring temple border designs. The silk trade in Kanchipuram began when King Rajaraja Chola I (985–1014) invited weavers from Saurashtra, Gujarat to migrate to Kanchi.

Navagunjara Motif consisting of 9 animals, birds and human parts

According to legend, Sage Markanda was a master weaver who was favoured by the gods and blessed with the ability to weave the most exquisite and luxurious silk sarees. As the story goes, when Sage Markanda was wandering through the forests of Kanchipuram, he saw the goddess Parvati weaving a silk saree. He was struck by the beauty and intricacy of her weaving and asked her to teach him the art of silk weaving. Parvati agreed to teach Sage Markanda the art of silk weaving, and he spent many years learning from her. With her guidance, he became a master weaver, and his silk sarees were highly sought after by royalty and nobility throughout South India. Legend has it that Sage Markanda wove a silk saree for the god Vishnu, which was made of pure gold and silk. This saree was so exquisite that it was believed to be able to withstand the test of time, and it became a symbol of wealth and prosperity in South India.

I do not know much about the royalty and the nobility of the old but we ensured we devoted enough time to visit a couple of shops selling the sarees, understanding the beauty of the wraps and were simply amazed at the intricacies of the craftsmanship. Each piece that was brought down from the racks and unfolded was unique and the salesman had a story to tell about the distinct border, pallu and the motifs woven into each of them. Wish we had more time at hand and more money to buy than what we finally ended up… handful for sure.

Why go anywhere else on the planet when you have so much more to see in Incredible India!

SS 

NB. Source regarding the myths, legends and history for this blog have been taken from various articles in the internet. Apology for any mistake that may have crept in inadvertently. The pictures used are our own.

It’s My Life

Saturday 10^th January 2026. Flat 902 Jeevan Society

Baby, come quickly. Dadi wants to talk to you. Come na…how many times do I have to call you.

Don’t bother, Sunil. The kid is sleeping, don’t disturb her. I will make her speak to Mom on FaceTime some other day. You do the talking today.

Mumma, how are you doing?

You have put up cameras in the house that you can see me almost everywhere except in the bathroom. You know everything about me; my every movement you can see and hear every word I speak. Why can’t I have some privacy?

Mumma, you live alone in a mad city like Mumbai and we live thousands of miles away in London. Our work and life are both here but we want to take care of you always. What if you were to fall sick or need any help? You won’t be able to call the doctor or ambulance. We can do it from here and also rush home in case of any need. This technology gives us much peace of mind.

I hope you have not put them in the bathroom as well?

Come on, Mumma. Don’t be angry. Shruti and I are always worried about you and this is the least we can do by keeping vigil and overseeing your safety and security.

Do as you please. I am fine and can manage my things well alone.

Mumma, who is this person who keeps coming every day to your place?

Oh, that’s Murthy, our new neighbour who moved in recently. I invite him to have the evening tea with me, so he comes.

But why every day?

Arrey, he is a good old man, lives all by himself. He is a very interesting man and I quite like his company.

Mom, what’s wrong with you? Can’t you see him bringing gifts every other day? Don’t you find it strange?

Those are cookies that he keeps buying for himself. Since I make the tea for him, he brings the cookies and sometimes other small eats here to share and enjoy together.

He is there with you alone for hours. Why can’t he just have his tea and leave? And why do you make the finest Darjeeling tea for him and often serve fries additionally. What is going on, Mom? You have to understand that we live in a society and there is a time and an age for everything. No one will approve of this relationship…

Relationship! You are accusing me of having a relationship with a neighbour?  This is so shameful to hear it from my son at this age. I have been living here alone for the last eight years and during this time there have been so many neighbours who came and went but none really connected as a friend. Today, for the first time, I am able to communicate with a neighbour who seems intelligent and cheerful and look what I have to listen to? Sunil, have I ever complained of my loneliness? You think by coming once a year, sending me money every month is enough for me to tide over my loneliness. I long for company. Why should my talking to this man be looked upon by my own son in such a lowly manner?

No Mumma, you are getting me all wrong. I do realise that you are all alone and we have begged you so many times to come and live with us but you have always been so adamant and refused persistently. And you know the world you live in where tongues wag at the smallest of pretext. I do not want people to cast any aspersions on you. I was just trying to be extra protective of you.

Beta, your father built this house with all his life’s savings. He lives on here with me in in every brick in the walls. I feel his presence every night when I switch off the lights. There is no way I am going anywhere.  I just don’t feel like talking on this issue any more. Good night, Sunil.

Flashback: October 2025. Flat 901, Jeevan Society

Mr. Murthy had moved into the present flat at Vasai a couple of months ago after the demise of his wife. On the day that he arrived here, he saw a lady in the adjoining flat talking to a food delivery man. As he shut his door, he casually wished her good morning and she immediately reciprocated. In the evening, before leaving for his walk in the garden, Murthy rang the bell next door.

Hello, I am Ram Murthy, your new neighbour. Would you mind keeping one spare key at your place, just in case I forget mine someday and get locked out?

Hello, I am Sujata Gokhale. Yes, of course, I can keep your keys at my place. Why don’t you come inside?

Sorry, not today. After my walk I have to pick up lots of stuff from the market.

Ok, so why don’t you come after you have finished your shopping. We could have tea.

It will be late by the time I come home. But I will take your offer and drop in tomorrow evening, if that is ok with you.

Sure, anytime. I am usually home.

Thank you for your generous offer. Bye for now.

That is how they met and in the days that followed, the two neighbours connected well together. Murthy would find some time almost every day and drop in. Sujata was happy to have him over, and being contemporaries, they had many things in common and their conversation was always interesting and engrossing.

Murthy lived a simple disciplined life with his pension money of which a large part went in paying off the monthly rent. He loved company and you would often find him chatting with the security guards or the gardener. Quite unlike his soft demeanour, he drove a heavy duty 350cc Royal Enfield motorbike that made quite a noise.  He always had a smile on his face. Murthy had one failing, a sweet tooth, and he would often pick up cookies, sweets and small bites during his regular market visits. These he would share with his housemaid and with Sujata who initially resisted accepting them. She later realised that the neighbour was a good man and the small things he got were nothing more than his way of reciprocating for the hospitality she would show.

As their friendship grew stronger, they both looked forward to their meetings and conversations which ranged from books, politics, food to travel, places visited and not visited. They would not agree over some topics but the tone was always friendly. It seemed as though no one wanted to upset the other. Both felt happy in each other’s company.

Fast Forward: 11^th January 2026

It was a Sunday early morning and Murthy had just woken up when the door-bell rang.

Who can it be now? It is too early for the cleaner or the driver. Must be some idiot asking for donation for one festival or another.

He walked up and opened the door. He could not believe his eyes…it was Sujata standing there, instead of the usual smile, she had a stern look on her face.

Hello…what a pleasant surprise. My Sunday just got better with your coming. Why don’t you come in?

Ram, here are your keys…she pushed her hand with the keys dangling towards the shell-shocked man. I do not wish to keep them anymore.

What happened Sujata? Are you going somewhere for long?

No, I am not going anywhere. It is just that I do not want to keep the keys anymore. And let us not continue with our daily meetings anymore.

Before Murthy could speak anything, Sujata turned around and went into her flat. He kept looking at her door for long and then gently closed his own door and slumped on his easy chair. He kept wondering what had happened? Why had she suddenly behaved in that manner? What wrong had he done? Had he said anything bad to her or hurt her? He was enjoying her company and no more. Was she doubting his intentions by any chance? Oh God!

He swayed on the easy chair for almost the whole of the day, thinking for the plausible reason for this sudden turnaround. Why would she return the keys and ask him not to visit her again? He wished she had told him her reasons and heard him out as well. It was fine with him if they no longer remained friends and did not have tea together anymore but casting an aspersion like that was completely wrong and uncalled for.  

The ninth floor of the building that Sunday remained completely quiet and motionless. The doors at both ends remained shut. Both avoided each other for next two weeks.

Sunday 25^th January 2026: Flat 902

Sujata knew the pain she had caused her neighbour. Everyday she felt like speaking to him and apologising but could not muster up courage to do so. She had stopped taking Sunil’s calls and would only talk to her daughter-in-law and the grandchild. She thought over the matter for days together and then one day said to herself…Enough is enough! It is my life and I will live it my way.

She went to Flat 901 and rang the doorbell. There was no response from inside. She got worried and rang the bell frantically. This time the door opened slightly and before Murthy could say anything, she said, I need to talk to you and please don’t say no. Murthy let her in and Sujata saw that the living room was in quite a mess. The well organised man had not bothered to clean up the place for long and all the furniture was dusty. She sat down on the sofa and started to speak while the man slouched on the easy chair with his head bent down, refusing to look at Sujata.

I am sorry Ram for behaving so badly with you for no fault of yours… She went on to narrate her conversation with her son and tried explaining her awkward reaction thereafter. She was choking while talking and kept adding sorry after every couple of words.

Murthy now lifted his eyes and looked at Sujata, put his palms together asking her to stop saying anything more and said… You mean I can once again start coming to your place for tea and chatting?

Sujata smiled and nodded her head. Yes…Yes! She wondered how easily the man had forgiven her and agreed to return to good old days.

She said… I need your help for two things. Firstly, call an electrician immediately and bring down all the CCTV cameras in my house. I do not wish to be pried upon even by my children. I know what is right from wrong and good from bad.

And what is your next ask?

Sunil’s father also had a motorbike when we first met in our college days. He loved driving the machine and drove it fast. I loved sitting behind him and enjoyed the cool breeze kissing me as we zoomed ahead with my hair flying. I want you to take me out for drives once in a while. I want to live my life again on my terms.

Are you sure of this for I will be more than happy to take you out on drives? It will be your life, your terms but, with all due respect, I will insist on your wearing the helmet. Safety first.

Yes! Sure…very sure. Not just any drive… long drives if you are up for it. How about driving to Mahabaleshwar tomorrow?

SS

Growing Up

 I was thirty-five years old when I got my passport and travelled abroad for the first time.

My little friend Gabbu is just fifteen months old and he just returned from a holiday in Thailand.

I saw lions and their cubs in awe and fearfulness at the Delhi Zoo.

Gabbu’s mother showed me videos of him playing with the lion cubs inside their cage.

On the eve of his overseas departure, I met Gabbu sitting upright in his beautiful perambulator.

When he returned after ten days, he had dropped the pram and was walking.

My little friend had surely grown up quickly.

We were meeting him after quite a gap and there was trepidation that he would have forgotten us.

We saw him sitting lazily on the swing looking slightly bored.

I clapped my hands hard, he turned, and the scene changed.

Gabbu smiled and reciprocated by clapping his hands and moving his legs up and down.

As the swing went forward and backwards, he smiled more and more with every swing.

We were thrilled that our little friend remembered us well.

We continued with our walk in the campus and in the next round we reached the swing again.

Gabbu started making hand gestures which appeared to be saying… get me out of here.

He was wearing a pair of nice white shoes with two red stripes… I am ready, he was saying.

With a gentle pull, got him out of the swing and placed him on the ground.

Gabbu smiled first and then laughed and started walking.

Wondered, how someone can laugh merrily in a world divided by jingoism, religion and mad men?

Gabbu was now laughing with his mouth wide open.

Buddy, do you know what happened at Venezuela while you were sleeping last night?

Saliva dripped from his open mouth and he seemed happier.

How can you be happy with missiles and drones flying in all direction in Ukraine and Russia?

Gabbu now started laughing aloud making the ha ha ha sound.

Do you even know how many Iranians died or were put behind prison bars?

The little one now started rocking his head as he kept walking and laughing.

Do you know that Greenlanders are feeling the chill not from the cold for the first time?

Gabbu now started shaking his head faster and harder as if in a trance.

Doesn’t the four hundred plus AQI at Delhi bother you Little One?

Gabbu now started singing… la la la… loudly and everyone around could see hear him.

Wild fires in Chile, ethnic cleansing in Sudan and train accident in Spain- no time to rejoice Buddy.

Gabbu kept singing and wobbling in circles round and round.

High he was for sure but in a spirit of his own.

Singing a song of his own.

Dancing in his own steps.

Shaking his head from the front to the back as if there were a spring in his neck.

His mouth ajar, with four little teeth popping out in front and saliva dripping as he laughed.

I raised my index finger and asked him to stop prancing.

He looked at me, laughed aloud and purred with his lips held together as if saying... forget it!

I wondered if this is not the state what we all seek to attain- Ultimate Joy.

Joy of dancing as if no one is looking.

Joy of singing without worrying about the right notes.

Joy of laughing uninterrupted till you cried.

I wondered how Gabbu was able to do it all.

D said, it is because of his innocence.

He is pure at heart, one without deceit and cunningness.

He knows little simple things and knows no fear, shame or competitiveness.

Gabbu is untouched and undisturbed by things we worry endlessly about.

Our hearts and minds are completely corrupted and the innocence is lost from our lives.

Age and innocence are inversely proportional, when one goes up, the other comes down

Honesty and simplicity keep vanishing from our lives with each passing day as we grow.

We wear masks all the time and refuse to be our true selves.

We are always trying to be what we are not and worried about what others think of us.

I looked once more at my little Laughing Buddha and said…

Gabbu, don’t grow up. It is not worth it.

Keep laughing, keep dancing and keep singing…let the world wonder why.

Stay young and stay innocent as long as you can.

Growing up is a trap.

Don't know if he understood anything, he just smiled, blew a flying kiss and wobbled on.

SS

The Abode of Wealth

Badshah Salamat Zindabad… the two of us said in unison to an old man in tattered clothes and a huge colourful turban sitting near the gate of the famous Daulatabad Fort. Sunil, our local driver- cum-guide at Aurnagabad had briefed us well. He had told us that he would be taking us to meet someone called Pagla Shah Baba, who narrates the history of the city in his own unique manner and most tourists love the same.

Salaam…said the Pagla Shah Baba… where are you from?

We are from Bombay, now called Mumbai.

Hmmm…that was the land of the Marathas who came in much later than my times. The Deccan was their territory where they fought the Mughals but they ruled this fort for a short while only in the middle of the eighteenth century. What gifts have you brought for His Highness?

Naan Khaliya from Abdul Jabbar Khaliya House your highness. This was exactly as Sunil had advised us.

I am happy you got this famous dish for me. I get upset when some youngsters get the local Kuntaki Chicken Pakodas for me.… it has no class as compared to Naan Khaliya. The slow cooked tender meat in a spicy and soupy gravy and served with the saffron tinted naan is my favourite. When I shifted my capital from Delhi to Daulatabad, my shahi bawarchis (royal cooks) dug hot furnaces and rolled out thousands of naans and served my army with khaliya. In those days, this was called ‘sipaaiyon ka khana’ or food for soldiers. One day my people served naan khaliya to me and I fell in love with it instantly. It is a specialty of this city and you will not get it anywhere else.

We were taken aback when the old man spoke about ‘my capital’ and ‘my army ‘and ‘shifting of the city’ as if he were Sultan Muhammad bin Tughlaq who ruled the Delhi Sultanate from 1325 to 1351 CE. Sunil looked at our amazement and put a finger on his lips as if telling us to stay quiet and listen to the Pagla Shah Baba without questioning or disturbing him. We obeyed him and heard the man with rapt attention as he began his discourse.

According to the Hindu folk lore, the original name of the city was Devagiri meaning ‘Hill of the Gods’. Lord Shiva is said to have lived in the hills surrounding this region. Not much is known thereafter but historical records show that this was a flourishing town enroute for trading caravans going to the western and southern parts of the country. It became the capital city of the Yadava Kingdom from 9^th century CE onwards. In the late 12^th century, Yadava King Bhillama built a fortress in this area. In 1308, Sultan Alauddin Khalji sent his general Malik Kafur to Devagiri as the local king Ramachandradeva had stopped paying tribute to the Delhi throne. Ramachandra was easily defeated and Kafur returned to Delhi with huge horde of booty which financed his later expansion in the Deccan and Southern regions. After that it was my time here in the region.

Trying to show off my knowledge of history, I said most respectfully… Ji Jahanpanah.

The old man got infuriated and shouted… Befakoof (idiot), if you think addressing emperors as Jahanpanah is appropriate, then let me tell you that it is not. Jahanpanah was the city I built at Delhi… the third city of Delhi in its glorious past after the initial two Qila Rai Pithora and Siri were destroyed. It means refuge (panah) of the world (jahan). It is better you keep your mouth shut or I will stop talking!

I apologised… Gusthakhi maaf huzoor (apologies my lord). Please continue the historical journey.

In 1325, I ascended the throne at Delhi after the death of my father Ghiyasuddin Tughlaq. In view of the constant invasions of the Mongols and Afghans as well as to be able to better control my empire from a central place, I decided to move my capital from Delhi to Devagiri which was renamed Daulatabad (abode of wealth) in 1328. In 1335, I decided to shift the capital back to Delhi as there were revolts in the northern parts and a plague in the Deccan where a lot of my people died. A walk around the Daulatabad Fort will tell you that this was one of the most impregnable fortifications ever built in India.

While the Pagla Baba Shah was narrating, I checked the historical facts on my mobile. Thanks to AI, all the old man was saying was matching including the dates. I shut off the mobile and kept myself open to what more the teller of tales had in store.

Among the people who travelled with me from Delhi to Daulatabad was a general named Hassan Gangu who went on to become Sultan and started the Bahmani Kingdom. Inside the fort you will see the tallest object which is 63 metres high, the Chand Minar (Tower of the Moon) which was a replica of the Qutb Minar of Delhi. It was erected in 1445 to commemorated Sultan Alauddin Ahmad Shah of the Bahmani Sultanate’s victory against the Vijayanagara Empire in 1443.

In 1499, Daulatabad, became part of the Ahmadnagar Sultanate, who used it as their secondary capital. In 1610, not far from the Daulatabad Fort, the new city of Aurangabad, then named Khadki, was established to serve as the capital of the Ahmadnagar Sultanate by the Ethiopian military leader Malik Ambar. Most of the present-day fortifications at Daulatabad Fort were constructed under the Ahmadnagar Sultanate. The fort is full of blind alleys and multi-layered fortifications, all of which show highest level of defensive strategic planning.

Inside the fort you will find another beautiful piece of architecture. It is called the Chini Mahal. The name is derived from blue Chinese porcelain tiles. It was once used as a royal prison by Aurangzeb for the last Golconda king, Abul Hasan Qutb Shah.

You may need more than a day to see everything that is there in this magnificent fort but most people see a portion of it. Apart from the places already named, you may see Jami Masjid, Bharat Mata Mandir and Elephant Tank. These are places you can easily cover in case you miss going to the top of the hill for the main fortifications. Do not miss the three hundred odd cannons on display of all sizes and make.

In 1633 CE, the place came under the control of the Mughals. The Mughal Emperor in his last days fought with the Marathas from this region. Both Aurangzeb and his wife, Dilrus Banu Begum also known as Rabia-ud-Durrani, have their graves close to this area.  Her burial place is called Bibi ka Maqbara (Tomb of the Lady) or Mini Taj as it is similar in design to the Taj Mahal at Agra. This was built in 1668-69 by Prince Azam Shah in memory of his mother.

In 1707, Aurangzeb breathed his last at Ahmednagar. His body was then carried to Khuldabad where he was laid to rest in a simple tomb covered with soil on which some shrubs were planted. This tomb was made as per Aurangzeb’s own wishes. It is said that Aurangzeb paid for his burial place by stitching caps during his last years and that it cost only 14 rupees and 12 annas. Later, Lord Curzon covered the site with marble and added marble screen around it. The tomb is still open to the sky. His was the most austere and simple of graves of any known ruler in Indian history. 

One last thing that you should see is the Panchakki in the city erected by Turktaz Khan, a noble on the staff of Nizam-ul-Mulk Asaf Jah in about 1695 A. D. The water-mill is kept fed with sufficient water by an underground conduit; the water is made to fall into the Panchakki cistern from quite a height in order to generate the necessary power to drive the mill. The watermill was used to grind grain for the pilgrims and disciples of saints as well as for the troops of the garrison. There is a huge banyan tree that is almost six hundred years old that provides shade and shelter to the people visiting.

Shukriya Sultan Shah, you have given us a wealth of knowledge about the history and beauty of the city of Daulatabad and its adjoining areas. Here is a small token of our appreciation for your help. Mind it, this is not the token currency that you introduced in the 14^th C during your times but something that will surely buy you naan khaliya for the next one week or so. 

The old man smiled and started eating the food as we walked towards the booth to buy the entrance ticket to the Daulatabad Fort. He called after us, don’t forget to buy some Paithani sarees before you go home.

Paithani sarees have a rich history dating back to the Satavahana Dynasty in 2^nd century BC. It was initially known as Pratishthani as it originated in the ancient trading town of Pratishthan. Paithani sarees are made of silk and zari with many motifs, popular among them being the Muniya (parrot), Mor (peacock) and Asawalli (flowering vines). We went to a shop in the city and by the time we left the place, it looked as if, it had been ransacked by Malik Kafur and the poor salesman looked completely exhausted.

SS

When the Rocks Speak

As our car sped along the Aurangabad-Chalisgaon Road, about 30 km northwest of Aurangabad, I was completely mesmerised reading about this group of caves called the Ellora Caves. In the first millenium, generations of men had laboured, hewn, excavated and carved away on the basaltic rock formations, caused by volcanic activity in the Sahayadri ranges of the Deccan millions of years ago, to create these masterpieces of rock-cut architecture. These caves are located on the Charanandri hills through which flow many streams, like the Elaganga, which drain into the river Shiv, a tributary of the Godavari. The name of the village is Verul and locals call the caves Verul Leni (leni being the Marathi word for caves).

Unlike the Ajanta, these caves were never lost to oblivion, due to their close proximity to the trade route. There have been numerous written records to indicate that these caves were visited regularly by monks, travellers, traders and rulers too. Ellora was declared a World Heritage Site in 1983 by UNESCO and these caves are now maintained by the Archaeological Survey of India.

The 34 caves open to the public at Ellora are an impressive ensemble of Buddhist, Hindu, and Jain cave temples. The caves include Buddhist chaityas and viharas, Hindu temples and Jain shrines. The rock-cut activity was carried out in three phases from the 6th century to the 12th century CE. The earliest caves (caves 1–12), excavated between the 5th and 8th centuries CE, reflect the Mahayana philosophy of Buddhism. The Brahmanical group of caves (caves 13–29), including the renowned Kailasha temple (cave 16), was excavated in two phases between the 6th and 10th centuries CE. The last phase, between the 9th and 12th centuries CE, saw the excavation of a group of caves (caves 30–34) reflecting Jain philosophy. Most part of the Hindu caves and Buddhist caves were built during the Kalachuri and the Rashtrakuta dynasties. The Jain caves came later, possibly, during the later Rashtrakuta and the Yadava rulers. 

The men who built them lived hundreds of years ago. The kings who patronized them are dead and gone. The Gods we still worship but somewhere along the way we are forgetting to live in harmony of which these caves are a beautiful example. We are so busy renaming Aurangabad to Chhatrapati Sambhaji Nagar that we miss out on seeing this rock-cut marvel right next to it. And how many times have we felt the twenty-rupee note between our finger and thumb but missed noticing the picture on it? Maybe it is time to pause and pay our tribute to those men who lived and died creating this wonderland among the rocks.

The Hindu Monuments: Caves 13–29

The caves are arranged in the shape of a semi-circle with the Buddhists caves on the southern end of the arc, the Jain caves on the northern end and Hindu caves in the centre spread over a 2 km stretch. 

Cave 16 is the largest and is prominently located at the centre. On one side of it are Caves 1-15 and on the other Caves 17-25. The Jain group of temples (30-34) and the remaining Hindu temples (26-29) are a little away from the main group but they now have electric buggies to transport you there.

Cave 16: Kailashanatha Temple- the largest monolithic rock-cut temple in the world

Kailashanatha Temple (Cave 16), carved out of a single rock, is designed to resemble Shiva’s abode: Mount Kailasha. The Kailasha is a multi-level temple excavated from top to bottom and cut through from outside to inside. It took 200 years and several generations of human labour to complete it. It is believed that the excavation began under Rashtrakuta King Dantidurga (735-757 CE) and continued through the reigns of Krishna 1 and other Rashtrakuta rulers.

As the name suggests this temple complex was inspired by Mount Kailasha and is dedicated to Lord Shiva. It is modelled along similar lines to other Hindu temples with a gateway, an assembly hall, a chariot-like main temple surrounded by numerous other shrines laid out according to the square principle, an integrated space for circumambulation, a garbha-griha (sanctum sanctorum) to place the linga-yoni, and a spire- shaped vimana to recreate Mount Kailash. And wherein lies the wonder? All carved with hammer and chisel from one rock on the face of a cliff.

Every sculpture here has a meaning and a purpose. The two elephants and free-standing Pillars of Victory in the courtyard reflect the supremacy and power of the Rashtrakuta rule. The figures of Sankha-Nidhi and Padma-Nidhi and the panels of Gajalaxmi in the courtyard symbolise their prosperity. The idols of Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati symbolise Purity, Devotion and Knowledge respectively.

The main temple is called the Rang Mahal because after its completion it was plastered and painted possibly between 9th-11th C. The 7-metre plinth is decorated with scenes from the Ramayana and Mahabharata epics. The main temple has a Vadya Mandapa, Nandi Mandapa, a pillared hall, an ante-chamber and five subsidiary shrines (Panchayatana).

Cave 15: Dasavatara Cave

Cave 15: This is the Dasavatara Cave with the ten reincarnations of Vishnu belonging the to 8^th C. It is also a meeting place of both Shaivism and Vaishnavism. Images and emblems of the Buddha can also be also be found here. A steep flight of steps leads you to the temple housed in this cave. It has an open court with a free-standing monolithic Natya Mandapa (Dance Hall) in the middle and a two-storeyed excavated temple at the rear. An inscription on the wall of this small mandapa in the foreground attributes it to Dantidurga of the Rashtrakuta dynasty. The ground floor is a huge hall with pillars and cells but no sculptures. Another short flight of steps leads you to the upper storey where the sanctum sanctorum houses the Shiva lingam guarded by two huge doorkeepers. In the middle of the pillared hall is Nandi seated majestically. The sculptures on the north honour Lord Shiva while those on the southern side belong to Lord Vishnu. The finest relief of this cave is the one depicting the death of Hiranyakashyap, where Vishnu in man-lion (Narasimha) form kills the demon. Apart from Narasimha, Vamana, Varaha and other avatars of Vishnu, prominent reliefs in Cave 15 include the Gangadhara, the marriage of Shiva and Parvati, Garuda, and Dancing Shiva, 

 

Cave 21- Rameshvara Cave

Cave 21: Rameshvara Cave is dedicated to Lord Shiva and is attributed to the first phase of the Hindu caves dated between 6th to 8th C, possibly built under the patronage of the Kaluchari kings prior to the Rashtrakutas. The Nandi platform in the courtyard is massive and immediately catches the eye. The entrance to the cave has river goddesses Ganga and Yamuna on either side. Equidistant from the two goddesses, at the vertex of an imaginary triangle is placed the Shiv lingam. There is a sculptured deity of the goddess Durga. A panel of seven Mother Goddesses (Sapta Matrikas) of the Shakti tradition, flanked on each end by Ganesha and Shiva, can be seen on the outside wall of this cave and is considered to be an artistic masterpiece.

 

Cave 29- Dumar Lena 

Cave 29 named as Dumar Lena is one of earliest cave excavations in Ellora and among the largest. The cave is also known as Sita-ki-Nahani because of a pool formed by a natural waterfall on the river Elaganga and a beautifully carved figure of Yamuna having been mistakenly identified as Sita. The waterfall is visible from a rock-carved balcony and has been described as "falling over great Shiva's brow". The steps leading to the cave temple have statues of two formidable lions on either side. The central hall is of gigantic proportions with huge fluted pillars with corresponding pilasters supporting the whole structure. Deep inside is housed the garbha griha with the Shiva linga which has four entrances flanked by huge dwarpalakas. The figures in portico and verandahs are so massive and life-like that it is hard to believe they are 1500 years old. The most famous carved panels are those of Ravana shaking Mount Kailash, Shiva killing Andhakasura and Shiva Parvati playing a board game.

 

The Buddhist monuments: Caves 1–12

These caves are located on the southern side and were built either between 7^th and 8^th century CE. Eleven out of the twelve Buddhist caves consist of viharas, or monasteries with prayer halls. The monastery caves have shrines including carved images and emblems of Gautama Buddha, the Bodhisattvas and saints.

Cave 5 is unique among the Ellora caves as it was designed as a dining or assembly hall with a Buddha statue in the rear end. In the central space between the rows of pillars can be seen low lying tables or benches hewn out of the rocks used for eating or studying by the monks. 

Cave 10- The Vishvakarma Cave

Notable among the Buddhist caves is Cave 10, a chaitya or prayer hall called the 'Vishvakarma cave', built around 650 CE. It is also known as the "Carpenter's Cave", because the roof of the hall has been given a finish that has the appearance of wooden beams.  It has double-storey with balcony on the upper storey overlooking the entrance. At the heart of this cave is a 15-foot statue of Buddha seated under the Bodhi tree in a teaching posture. Buddha is flanked by two Bodhisattvas and celestial couples. The stupa has carvings of Bodhisattvas and other figures.

The main hall of the Vishvakarma cave is apsidal in plan like in churches and is divided into a central nave and side aisles by 28 octagonal columns. The ribbed vault gives an echo effect in the hall when a person is standing at one end of the columns.

The most remarkable feature is the music gallery on the upper storey giving it a theatre like effect. Music played there or any chants uttered would be amplified because of the construction and could be heard even by people assembled outside.

Caves 11(do-tal or double-storeyed) and Cave 12(teen-tal or triple-storeyed) are Mahayana monastery caves with idols, mandalas carved into the walls along with goddesses, and Bodhisattva-related iconography. 

The Jain monuments: Caves 30–34

At the north end of Ellora are the five Jain caves belonging to the Digambara sect, which were excavated in the 9^th and early 10^th C. They are much smaller in size when compared with Buddhist and the Hindu caves, Unlike the Hindu temples, emphasis is placed on the depiction of the twenty-four tirthankaras (spiritual conquerors who have gained liberation from the endless cycle of rebirths). 

Cave 30- The Chhota Kailasha

Chhota Kailasha is another monolithic rock-cut structure like the Kailasha Temple (Cave 16) but is mostly destroyed or incomplete. You need to go up a few steps on a narrow path to reach it. Here too the sculptors had excavated from top to bottom on a single block of rock. This temple was likely built in the early 9th century some decades after the completion of the Kailasha Temple. 

Cave 32: This is a double-storeyed cave dedicated to the Digambar sect dated between 10^th-11^th C.  It came to be known as Indra Sabha most likely because of a sculpture of Matanga (God of Wealth) which was mistakenly identified as that of Indra. There is a central courtyard with a monolithic shrine housing Lord Mahavira. In the courtyard we also find the victory pillar and the sculpture of an elephant. It has all the signs of Digambara Jain temple with a courtyard, a verandah, an ornate pillared hall with statues of the Jain Tirthankaras including Gomateshwara and Parshvanatha. There are friezes and panels with intricate detailed carvings all over and paintings on the ceiling. This is the largest and the most ornate of all the Jain group of cave temples.

Cave 33: Jagganatha Sabha or court of Jagganatha (Lord of the world) is dedicated to Digambara sect of Jainism, datable to 10^th-11^th C. The verandah is decorated with sculpture of Matanga (God of Wealth) and Siddhaika (Goddess of Prosperity). While the walls of the hall are sculptured with Jain deities, the sanctum sanctorum houses Lord Mahavira on a lion-throne in meditation pose. The carvings are very ornate and detailed. The lotus on the ceiling and the intricately carved torans bring to mind the Jain Dilwara temple of Mount Abu, Rajasthan. The upper floor also has a verandah flanked by chapels and a big pillared hall. The wall panels are richly carved with Tirthankaras and with paintings.

Let us step back for a while from our chaotic, intolerant, materialistic world 

Let us stand before these caves nestled in the lap of nature

Let us bow our heads in reverence to both God and man

Let us pause and listen

Listen to what the rocks have to say.

 

DS