Hoysalas were rulers of a fairly small part of South India during the 12th and 13th centuries, around Hassan and Mysore, in what is now Karnataka. They weren't pacifists exactly (how else do you get to be a ruler in those days?) but their demise was eventually caused by Balallala III holding up his regal hands and saying "mate, I don't want to fight" to the incoming hordes of those dreadful fellows from the North, as my aunts refer to anyone who hails from further up the Deccan plateau than, well, Chennai. For two centuries, these kings did their ruling, probably a fair bit of smiting, but their lasting memorials are the exquisitely carved and pretty well preserved temples which are dotted around the countryside, plus the big ones in Belur and Halebid. Their logo was bloke-slays-lion, as you can see from the top of the tower pictured at the top. This logo doesn't appear on them all, for reasons which are not yet clear to me, but is intended to convey some unwarranted warlike characteristics of the Hoysalas.
The Hoysala temples are recognisable for their fine carvings, well preserved due to the use of soapstone, which is soft when carved and then hardens over time. This allows the sculptor to work in much more detail than if using granite. One of my companions (also known as my mother) regularly instructs me to "stand in front of it, darling, don't look at me, look at it, I need you there to give a sense of proportion". So here you have my hand, complete with flower for the god, plus dodgy watch purchased at a street stall in downtown Mysore (Indians don't need Mary Portas to tell them markets = good), showing the size of one of the six layers of friezes which stripe around the lower part of the outside of the "new style" (most of those built after year 1200) Hoysala temples.
These six layers are typically, from top to bottom: birds, aquatic monsters, scenes from the Indian epics (the Ramayana and the Mahabharata), plants or lions, horses and finally elephants, as if supporting the whole edifice. The example on the left is from the Hosaholalu temple, about 40k north of Mysore, which can be reached by driving through beautiful rural India, passing sugar farms, stopping to pluck a fresh papaya fruit from the verge and on to K.R.Pet and turning left (asking for instructions if necessary). It is currently my favourite, as the consistency of the carving is so good and the quality so high, in a perfect setting of a square in the middle of the village, and still in use.
Besalaru, the subject of today's visit, is less used and required the help of our driver (left, outside temple gates), who sternly instructed me not to scale the iron padlocked gate but using his skill and judgement, quickly found the lady-of-the-lock, whose job it is to make puja (offerings to the Shiva and his companions in the temple shrines) and let visitors in when necessary. I am guessing it isn't her job to do any maintenance. Above the six layers of friezes come (in the "new style" temples") two eaves, under which nestle statues of various gods (at a Shiva temple) or various versions of Vishnu (at a Vishnu temple). Why is Vishnu so vain? Your dedicated detective will research and report back. However, today's temple (keep up at the back, we are at Besalaru), is a Shaivate (dedicated to Shiva) temple, so we get a veritable three dimensional presentation of the Hindu pantheon. I am particularly in love with the feet. Often dancing, sometimes crushing demons, frequently be-bangled but almost always deliciously well carved. As Tony Soprano once said (or something like this), nowadays it's nearly impossible to find anyone to grout your bathroom. Who today could craft a toenail so tiny, so perfect and so millenially-lasting? And then do eighty-odd sets of others?
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| Sunset view of palace, Green Hotel, Mysore |
