Halebedu, How Do You Do?

Traffic being so insane, Jeff spent a pretty fair amount of time being driven around in India.

And one thing he learned is that the driver does matter.

Apparently, there is a sweet spot in the driver lifecycle. You need a guy between the ages of 28 and 40. Too young, and you take your life in your hands (or theirs) as they dart in front of trucks and over sidewalks. Too old and forever to get anywhere because they won't dart in front of trucks and over sidewalks...

Why should this matter to us? After a bit of wandering around Mysore it was clear that there just wasn't enough to keep us busy for three days. So we made one of the best decisions of the entire tour: Road Trip.

When Jameel showed up to drive us to Belur and Halebedu, we knew we were in good hands. Afterall, he looked to be in his early 30's.

The three hour drive was surprisingly easy---the roads were far better than we expected, though narrow. We dodged trucks, cars, bikes, autos, mopeds, and ox carts---but there was never a danger of collision. Jameel was a master with the horn. He'd toot at oncoming vehicles. He'd beep vehicles he was passing. Blurt at animals along the road for fear that they would stray. He'd honk if someone came from behind quickly. And lay on the horn when the road curved. I don't think he went more than 15 seconds the entire day without the use of that horn.

We arrived in the small town of Belur ready for a bit of quiet and found it in the Chanekshava Temple. As soon as we shed the merchants and touts by entering the large temple complex through the seven-story gopuram, we were embraced by a giant, calm, cool, intricately carved mass of soapstone temples and courtyard. The complex was built by the Hoysalas, a group that ruled the region in the 11th, 12th, and 13th centuries when they ushered in a period of incredible art and culture. This temple, still in use today, was a testament to their artistic craftsmanship. Construction on this magnificent space began in 1116 and continued for 100 years. It is quite easy to see where the time went. Unlike the Shore Temple, the details in the carvings that decorate every square inch of the temple exteriors are quite visible nearly a millennium later. The buildings rise above their pedestal bases in seven distinct rows of carvings. From the base of all buildings rises a row of elephants, then lions, and horses (representing the strength, courage, and speed required to win the battles that this temple commemorated). Stacked in the strata above are various Hindu deities and Ramayana characters. Above all hung incredibly intricate (and suggestive) images of dancing girls---and lemme tell you, they liked 'em busty... (Apparently, there were some pretty explicit carvings on the tower outside, pulled directly from the Kama Sutra, but I missed them dodging shills and beggars). We spent a few hours wandering around the mind-numbing space, wondering how a place like this could look so good for such a long period.

It turned out that Belur, was good, but paled in comparison to our next stop; Halebedu. Like the Chanekshava Temple, the Hoysaleswara Temple was built in Hoysala high style, with a squat star-shaped building atop a raised platform. Like Belur, the temple is large---but not monumental in size. In some ways, this more reasonable scale made the building easier to embrace and absorb. We stood among the twists and corners of the building engulfed by its unbelievable decorative carvings. Instead of a campus, there is only one temple sitting amidst lush greenery at the edge of a river. From afar, the scene is breathtaking. Upon closer inspection, the carvings were even more intricate than the previous temple. Construction started in 1121, but 80 years was not enough to finish. Perhaps that is part of what makes Hoysaleswara so cool---you can see "sketches" in the early stages of carving.

On one side, in their own attached pavilions, sat huge black marble nandis. On the other a huge ornate Ganesh. In the middle an interior hallway with larger and even more intricate Hindu deities carved. We were able to peep into the dark sanctum to see a Shiva statue only dimly lit with incredibly creepy glowing eyes looking back at us. Sadly the quiet beauty of the scene was marred by workers stringing wires to light the space in the evening---an idiotic idea, with even worse execution. Nonetheless, this was one of the most enjoyable and awe-inspiring stops we made in India. (I'll post a bunch of photos, but I fear they just won't communicate the grandeur...)

Our last spot was Sravanablagola Hill, home to the largest monolithic statue in the world. After climbing 650 steps, we were disappointed to find the statue wrapped in a bulky metal scaffold left over from a giant festival in January. The statue depicts Gomateshuvara, the son of a King who renounced his kingdom rather than fight his brother. He gained wisdom after serious meditation in the wilderness---in fact, he was so deep into thought that plants grew up around his legs and insects built a burrow below his feet. Both of these details are prominent in the statue---though not the most prominent feature. Have you ever seen a 65 foot tall statue's uncircumcised member?

On the ride back to Mysore, Jameel continued to let loose on the horn. He honked at the dogs chasing the car. He honked at the people drying crops on the roadway. And he honked loudest when we came to a screeching halt on the modern highway linking Mysore to Hyderabad---a flock of goats numbering in the hundreds were being herded across all four lanes. Proving his worth as a driver, and age, Jameel locked the brakes just short of getting me some fresh mutton!
Coming Soon: Mounds of chicken feet and combs, the Starship Enterprise has landed, and how I almost joined a cult...