There was a time when every ritual from marriage to death required a kumbhar's (potter's) pots and blessings. He was the prajapati, a direct descendant of Brahma. Now, the glitter of steel and cheap aluminium has thrown the whole ancient tradition out of business, and reduced the potter to casual labour in farms and factories
Kaachi maatti ma rammya, Paakki maatti nu khadu
Dhando gayo tthap, have shoo karvoo!
(Played with raw clay, Ate out of the baked clay
Business is bust, now what do we do!)
-A not-so-old saying prevalent among the old and middle-aged potters of Bhavnagar district, Gujarat
"Ae jamano to gayo!" (Those days are gone!), laments 80-year-old Chagandada. Smiling through the multitude of wrinkles on his face, Chaganbhai Bijalbhai Rathod tells us of a time when a daughter's wedding trousseau was considered incomplete without a lagdu (a large rope basket) full of a variety of earthen pots to decorate and add to her newly-acquired kitchen. This ace potter, also considered a bhava (priestly person) by the villagers, fondly remembers the days, some 40-50 years ago, when people from faraway villages around Tarasara (Taluka Talaja, Bhavnagar district, Gujarat), would come to him for the beautiful clay pipes he could create on the wheel.
Bikhabhai of village Kuntasi (taluka Maliya, Rajkot district) has put away his potter's wheel and sold his donkeys. Now he sits idly in retirement, even though he can still throw a million pots for domestic use, if only there were buyers.
Times are bad for the potters of Gujarat, and indeed all of India. With the decreasing use of clay pots in domestic kitchens, especially in the villages of India, the art of pottery-making and the community of potters are slowly becoming extinct. Aluminium and steel have conquered clay. Simple earthenware today is considered non-durable and `old-fashioned'. Only elaborate ceramic pots have made it to hallowed `designer' status, and adorn the softly-illuminated corners of elite flats and bungalows. In creating these designer pots, the potter no longer remains an artisan in his own right. He is merely a paid worker who throws a pot at his designer's specification.
Beginning with the Indus Valley Civilization (3000-1800 BC), the entire northwestern frontier of our country witnessed a remarkable range of pottery. This was mostly red pottery with designs in black. It consisted not only of vessels for everyday use, which were beautifully painted with floral and geometric motifs, but also tableware such as the dish-on-stand and tall jars and goblets. Later periods saw an ever-increasing variety of pots, but nothing to match the superior quality and beauty of the Indus Valley Civilization. During the early historic period, polished ware and coloured pottery became popular and during the historical period, glazed ware and porcelain were a novelty. Different techniques of decorating clay pots were employed. Thus, we had not just painted pots, but pots with incised designs, stamped designs, moulded pottery and a multitude of others. Copper vessels were present as far back as 1800 BC, followed by brass and enamel-coated iron vessels, but these were not for the common man. Then came steel.
Along with every new metal or technique in vessel form, however, earthenware continued to be the predominant vessel form in the common man's kitchen. The Hindu concept of purity and pollution ensured the survival of pottery in India for thousands of years. Earthenware vessels were easy to replace by new ones whenever `polluted' or broken. They were available in plenty, were comparatively cheap, and were function-specific. Until a few decades ago nobody would dream of storing cool water or keeping the buttermilk from turning sour in a metal pot.
And then shining steel, cheap aluminum and dangerous yet user-friendly plastic killed the earthen pot. Along with vessels of wood and stone.
The dark but neat kitchens in the villages of Gujarat proudly gleam with rows of steel vessels. So easy to use and maintain. So handy in all their shapes and designs.
And the kumbhar community, once such an essential part of every village and household, became fodder for anthropologists' and sociologists' studies in changing times and its social impact.
Like any other aspect of Indian culture, there is a lot in common amongst the potters of India, especially between the south and east, and between the north and west. Pottery manufacture is the monopolistic occupation of a group or caste, and the production is confined to a limited number of people. In Gujarat, the jati or caste of the potters, locally called the kumbhars, is divided into four sub-jatis -- namely the Gujjar, Vatalia, Varia and Musala. Of these, the Gujjar and Vatalia communities are Hindus, while the Musala and Varia are Muslims. The other lesser-known jatis are Khanbati, Lad, Sorathia and Kadiya. Although considered an artisan class from among the lower ranks of the Vaisya community, some claim to be Kshatriyas. For instance, the family of potters in Tarasara are Rathods and worshippers of Shakti and thus Rajput Kshatriyas by lineage. They belong to the Gujjar jati and are believed to have migrated from Rajasthan.
The entire kumbhar community, although considered merely an artisan class by people both in villages and cities, takes pride in being the direct descendants of Lord Brahma. In fact Kumbha, from whom they derive their name, was one of the four sons of Brahma, the others being Harsha, Givsha and Mansa. Kumbha was the divine potter who possessed a wheel which could rotate on its own. There is an interesting myth that goes around among the potters of Saurashtra. Once at a feast meant for the gods and their families, young Kumbha finished his meal and got up to wash his hands even before the senior gods had done so. This was taken as an act of disrespect, an insult. Lord Brahma in a fit of rage excommunicated his son. Lord Vishnu put a curse on the spinning potter's wheel and Shiva froze the lump of clay. Kumbha pleaded with the holy trinity and they finally relented. But Kumbha would now have to live on earth with other humans. The three gods gave him certain gifts, so that young Kumbha could survive on earth. These were a staff (danda) and a water pot (kamandalu) from Brahma, a wheel (chakra) from Vishnu and a piece of cloth (langot) and a length of string (janeyu) from Shiva. These apparently are the most essential things for a potter. A wheel to throw the lump of clay onto, the staff or stick to rotate the wheel, a small pot with water kept nearby to wet the palms while shaping the pot, a small piece of cloth to smoothen the surface while shaping the pot and, finally, a piece of string to cut and detach the pot from the wheel.
Interestingly, this belief is quite common among the Muslim potter community also. For a potter, the art of shaping pots is as revered as Lord Brahma's creation of the universe itself, and for the same reason they share the respected title of prajapati.
From that exalted status it's been all downhill since the day they lost the battle to the Kansgar or the brass-smith as in the folktale from the potters of Kaira district. No longer does any father send a cartload of earthenware as part of his daughter's dowry, as was the case until 70 or 80 years ago in the villages of Gujarat; no young girl cherishes those large handas to carry water or the all-accommodating kothis made pretty with hundreds of tiny mirror bits, to keep her wedding trousseau in.
In rural Gujarat the earthenware most commonly seen is the matlo and the surahi, and sometimes the hando and tavdi. Replaced by the metal tava, the tavdi is used even today by the very poor in the villages and by the Bhil tribals on the hills of eastern Gujarat to bake bhakri. You have to visit the potter's house-cum-workshop to see a generation of earthenware that even the potter's children may be unaware of.
The potter himself is a revered man. Chakda Poojan, a pooja done by young girls a day before their wedding, involves worshipping the potter's wheel and taking his blessings. He 'sets in motion' the girl's wedded life. The pivot and socket which steadies the wheel while the potter throws a pot are symbols of male and female, the union of which generates creation. And it is prajapati (the creator) himself who presides over this union.
There was a time when every ritual -- be it wedding or funeral -- required clay pots. For instance, in a marriage ceremony the mandap itself required 32 pots. For the uttar kriya conducted on the 12th day after death, 12 rows of four pots placed one above the other were to be erected near the house of the deceased.
Other than the hando and/or matlo used to store water, the vessels you can still find in the villages is the kurdi or thopli to store buttermilk. Lesser-known vessel types are the gola, goli, bhalyo (all to store water), dohni, dohno (for buttermilk), patiya (for cooking), kathrot (for kneading dough), dabro (for keeping salt), dhakni (the lid) and the tavdi (for baking bhakri) which is still used by quite a few.
But other earthen forms have become more or less extinct. The coconut-shaped and sized pot called the gujadiyo in Gujarati, which tops the four columns of pots placed at the four corners of a Hindu wedding mandap, is now replaced by steel vessels of similar shape. And the peculiar chakli, literally meaning a bird (the common swallow), which is placed on the gujadiyo is no longer used. "Udi re udi re mari chakli," sings the father of the daughter as she flies away from his home and courtyard to nest elsewhere.
The garbo, a globular pot with perforations, is still used during the navratri festival in the villages. With a lighted lamp placed in the pot, symbolizing the female energy, it is worshipped by women who dance around it for nine nights. But as young Ramesh, Narainbha's son puts it, "what with disco dandiyas and large illuminated cutouts of Ambamata, who cares about the garbo?" Kodiyu or the diyas used during Diwali are still popular both in the villages and cities. But with new models of diyas, lanterns and candles, the simple and plain kodiyu is being ousted. Along with it the tradition of potters personally coming and gifting kodiyu and blessing each individual house with prosperity is also gone.
Every house in the village possessed a kunda, which was hung from a tree or from the edge of the roof. In it was placed some grain and water for the birds. This is very rarely seen today. The vessel which continues to be considered very important and indispensable in the villages and perhaps in the cities is the lotko; a small container used to carry the ashes of the dead from the funeral pyre and later set them afloat in the river.
The potters work practically everyday and throughout the year except for the three months of the monsoons (June to August). Although the potter does not require a large capital investment for his trade, the net result of his patience and hard work is less than sufficient in the modern circumstances. Even today when Narainbhai and Narbadaben of Tarasara go from village to village selling pots, they prefer to receive payment in terms of grain; for instance a matlo would be priced for four paylis (equivalent to 2 kg) of bajra or at Rs 8. With ever-decreasing demand for even the common water pots, these potters are forced to seek some other source of income. In Tarasara, out of the nine families of potters consisting of 40 males and 20 females, only five men are actually engaged in the trade at present. Two of them, still in their 50s, continue to throw pots just for some added income, while their sons are employed as labourers at the ship-breaking yard of Alang, just six kilometres from the village. For 80-year-old Chagandada it is a means of survival. Childless and a widower, he must fend for himself. Although he lives in a mud structure in the courtyard of his nephew's house, he is full of pride for his skill and dignity as a `holy man'.
Their lack of education ensures that they can go nowhere other than to the fields and factories as labour. In Gujarat, kumbhars, being a professional class, rarely farm or accumulate land and so their position is no better than the landless labourer. Sons are fairly educated and they no longer prefer messing around in mud for a profession. Most of them seek refuge as diamond-cutters in the many small-scale diamond-cutting factories housed in the villages of Saurashtra. Here again it is the glitter that has the earthen pot beaten.
Of the two houses of potters in Kuntasi, one is presided over by a brick-maker. He employs labour and after paying off their daily wages, he hardly makes any profit. Most of the kumbhars living around the town of Morvi, famous for its tiles and ceramics, work as labourers in some factory. This is the case with most of the potters who reside in the villages surrounding a small or big town. If not sweating it out in some dirty backyard of a factory, they are hired by shopkeepers to make pots according to the market demand. Here again, what eventually comes into their palms is very little, too little for the loss of their freedom and dignity as artisans.
Besides the technological backwardness of their tools and techniques of manufacture, these simple people find it difficult to adjust to the new requirements of the urban market. For them, making ornate designer items or mould-made flower pots means too many complications. It's big business for them, and much beyond their simple understanding. There's something they don't like about being in the backyard of some suburban house, painstakingly compromising with their traditional ideas while the sahib makes big money. Potters like the elderly Chagandada and middle-aged Narainbhai of Tarasara village prefer staying at home and catering to the few demands of the village to venturing out with pretentious and ornamental ideas. They are happy making diyas for Diwali and lotkos to carry the ashes of the dead.
Along with these changes, the lives of women have changed as well. A potter's house is one in which you see an absolute division of labour. Although there is a general taboo all over the country on women working at the potter's wheel, a potter's wife and daughters are close participants in the various stages of pottery production. The wife accompanies the husband when he goes collecting clay for the pots and firewood for the baking. She does the delicate mixing of ash and donkey dung with the clay and, later, the tough and difficult kneading of the clay into the right consistency. She also helps carry the pots for sale from village to village on donkey-back. Besides this she also manages the house. The artistic paintings on some of the pots or even the application of the glossy red or black slip is also a woman's job. She is free to create innovative motifs, besides the usual peacocks, flowers and curving lines and dots. It is her job to make the wares look pretty. Interestingly, the daughters of the house are also expected to actively participate in this exercise, besides learning embroidery and kitchen work. When married they work out new designs at the husband's house.
But now, with no pottery work in progress, these women too have lost their worth as true partners in the profit and creativity of the family. Their artistic talents are now contained within the four walls of a kitchen. A community in which a hard-working and talented girl was considered an asset, who could fetch a very good bride price from her groom, since she will be a helping hand in the in-laws' household, is now an added liability to her father. He now has to make arrangements for her dowry in cash.
Today, in some of the villages, a potter's child learns about his land and people at school, and at home he wonders about the purpose of the worn-out wheel in a corner of the house
Bina Thomas is a Pune-based archaeologist
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Surviving Gems.... The Wadas of Pune II
Surviving Gems.....of Pune
I thoroughly enjoyed my ride on Kaka’s scooter, through the narrow gullies of old Pune city, locating the Wadas in my list of `surviving gems’. I had plotted them on a city map of Pune. Although Kaka didn’t need the help of a map, studying the details in the map was a novel learning experience for me.
A walk through the old city division or peths of Pune, shows how the Wada legacy of Peshwai Pune, still dominates the city core. Many Wadas are being rented out in bits and pieces, the owners preferring to stay in smaller flats or bungalows, which require less maintenance. Many have crumbled down, or pulled down for new structures. But, there are some like the Vishrambaug Wada, which still stand strong and resplendent of its old glory. Built during1803 - 1809, this 3 storied Wada was the home of the last Peshwa, Bajirao II. Later on it housed the Poona Sanskrit College, the first British sponsored Educational Institution. Located in Sadashiv peth, it has beautiful columns and balconies. It now houses a museum and some government offices.
Another gem is the Nana Wada in Budhwar Peth. Built by Nana Phadnavis, it’s an architectural delight with wooden ceilings, railings, and chhatris or canopies. Nana was the chief administrator of the Peshwas. One of his most significant contributions has been the setting up of a drainage system for Pune, way back in the 1780’s!! Today a section of this building is being used as school and government offices. The Kesari Wada in Narayan Peth was built by the Gaikwads during the Peshwa rule. Stalwart freedom fighter Lokmanya Tilak started the Kesari and Mahratta Newspaper from here, and since then the Wada has been historically famous. Even today it houses the offices of Kesari, mementos of Tilak and the first National Flag unfurled by Madam Cama!!
Other than the few politically significant Wadas, there are many Wadas of local elites. Like the elaborate Mazumdar Wada, located near Shaniwarwada. It is 234 yrs old and the kitchen well’s water is still as clear and unpolluted!! Raste Wada at Rasta peth has a façade that resembles a Rajastahani Haveli. Purander Wada in Kasba Peth and Natu Wada at Shaniwar peth are equally fascinating. Wadas continued to be built till the end of the 19th century.
The growing British influence and control gave rise to social reforms and subsequently nationalist movements in the country. Eminent Indian reformers and leaders of the city made use of the versatile structure of the Wada, its courtyards and halls to hold meetings, gatherings, and debates. Wadas were used to house schools for girls, and for lower caste children, orphanages, widow homes, and offices. Even today, these institutions continue.
The foreground of Shaniwarwada was and still is an ideal space for public gatherings and programmes. That reminds me, Lokmanya Tilak held his first public Ganapati festival in the Vinchurkar Wada in 1894……..
I thoroughly enjoyed my ride on Kaka’s scooter, through the narrow gullies of old Pune city, locating the Wadas in my list of `surviving gems’. I had plotted them on a city map of Pune. Although Kaka didn’t need the help of a map, studying the details in the map was a novel learning experience for me.
A walk through the old city division or peths of Pune, shows how the Wada legacy of Peshwai Pune, still dominates the city core. Many Wadas are being rented out in bits and pieces, the owners preferring to stay in smaller flats or bungalows, which require less maintenance. Many have crumbled down, or pulled down for new structures. But, there are some like the Vishrambaug Wada, which still stand strong and resplendent of its old glory. Built during1803 - 1809, this 3 storied Wada was the home of the last Peshwa, Bajirao II. Later on it housed the Poona Sanskrit College, the first British sponsored Educational Institution. Located in Sadashiv peth, it has beautiful columns and balconies. It now houses a museum and some government offices.
Another gem is the Nana Wada in Budhwar Peth. Built by Nana Phadnavis, it’s an architectural delight with wooden ceilings, railings, and chhatris or canopies. Nana was the chief administrator of the Peshwas. One of his most significant contributions has been the setting up of a drainage system for Pune, way back in the 1780’s!! Today a section of this building is being used as school and government offices. The Kesari Wada in Narayan Peth was built by the Gaikwads during the Peshwa rule. Stalwart freedom fighter Lokmanya Tilak started the Kesari and Mahratta Newspaper from here, and since then the Wada has been historically famous. Even today it houses the offices of Kesari, mementos of Tilak and the first National Flag unfurled by Madam Cama!!
Other than the few politically significant Wadas, there are many Wadas of local elites. Like the elaborate Mazumdar Wada, located near Shaniwarwada. It is 234 yrs old and the kitchen well’s water is still as clear and unpolluted!! Raste Wada at Rasta peth has a façade that resembles a Rajastahani Haveli. Purander Wada in Kasba Peth and Natu Wada at Shaniwar peth are equally fascinating. Wadas continued to be built till the end of the 19th century.
The growing British influence and control gave rise to social reforms and subsequently nationalist movements in the country. Eminent Indian reformers and leaders of the city made use of the versatile structure of the Wada, its courtyards and halls to hold meetings, gatherings, and debates. Wadas were used to house schools for girls, and for lower caste children, orphanages, widow homes, and offices. Even today, these institutions continue.
The foreground of Shaniwarwada was and still is an ideal space for public gatherings and programmes. That reminds me, Lokmanya Tilak held his first public Ganapati festival in the Vinchurkar Wada in 1894……..
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The Wadas of Pune
Wadas of Pune
After visiting Shaniwarwada, the fortified citadel of the Peshwas since 18th century, I decided to explore the city further. At a bustling market place, I got off the rickshaw. And, what do I see! Another magnificent heritage building in dark wood, with beautiful carvings! It was the Vishrambaug Wada and I was struck by its quaint beauty.
“The second Wada for the day,” I said aloud to myself. “Why stop at two, madam? There are many more Wadas in amchi Pune,” said the fruit seller, watching me looking at the Wada, unmindful of the chaotic traffic around me. “I too stay in an old Wada. Would you like to visit it? Of course, it’s not stately as the Vishrambaug Wada,” he invited. This was getting interesting. That was it. I had to learn more about the Wadas of Pune before visiting a few of them.
The next couple of days, I gathered as much information as I could on the Wadas of Pune. Just as every region has a distinctive form of architecture, which is largely determined by the climate and building material available locally; as cities prospered, traditional styles for residential complexes to accommodate larger households, came into being. Like the havelis in Rajasthan, or the nallu kettus of Kerala, in Pune, it was the Wada style architecture.
Wadas are dwellings made of, brick and lime plaster with a timber frame. Raised on a high stone plinth, they are generally structured around two courtyards with beautiful facades, balconies and windows. The inner rooms and courtyard, was appropriated by the women folk of the household. It consisted of a large kitchen, store room, prayer room, a birthing room, granary, and cowshed. It also houses the well. The outer courtyard, verandah or osari, rooms, and halls were reserved for guests, meetings with business associates, and working space for accountants and clerks. Most Wadas have a typical heavy wooden door of wooden or metal frame with a smaller opening or dindi for every day use. The doorway has a carved strip with auspicious symbols, known as ganesh pati. They have raised devdis or guard rooms on both sides inside the entrance.
Although the Wada form of construction began in the Maratha period itself, it was during the Peshwa times, and particularly during the later half of the 18th century, that it gained maximum popularity as a residential structure or house form. Traditionally, these are not grand avenues, but basic and functional. But as the city and its affluent community grew, the Wadas flowered into beautiful and luxurious mansions with large durbar halls, intricately carved wooden columns and ceilings, with ivory, copper and gold inlays. Large mirrors, glass paintings, and chandeliers adorned the rooms in the front. Fountains and tulsi shrines in the first and second courtyards respectively, became a common feature. The number of floor levels increased from two to sometimes even seven!
With the onset of Colonial rule in Pune in early 19th Century, the wealthy Puneites had to curb there extravagant lifestyles. Income from friends and relatives in power during Peshwai times, and other dubious sources reduced. Maintenance of large residential Wadas became difficult. With the breaking down of the joint family system, most Wadas ran into further neglect. Many of them were and still are rented out in bits and pieces.
Many Wadas have crumbled down, or pulled down to make way for newer construction. But there are some which still stand strong and resplendent of its old glory. Some of the wells in these old Wadas are still in use, its water just as clear, and unpolluted. I will write about them later. Also, how these Wadas were used for public welfare by the Reformists of the 19th century, and later by freedom fighters.
A walk through the old lanes or peths of Pune will give adequate proof of how the Wada legacy of Peshwai Pune, still dominates the city core. And how they were an integral part of the cities urban growth. Today, when I see how newer constructions dwarf these architectural gems, I feel very sad. Change is inevitable, but it should also make space to conserve our heritage…….
After visiting Shaniwarwada, the fortified citadel of the Peshwas since 18th century, I decided to explore the city further. At a bustling market place, I got off the rickshaw. And, what do I see! Another magnificent heritage building in dark wood, with beautiful carvings! It was the Vishrambaug Wada and I was struck by its quaint beauty.
“The second Wada for the day,” I said aloud to myself. “Why stop at two, madam? There are many more Wadas in amchi Pune,” said the fruit seller, watching me looking at the Wada, unmindful of the chaotic traffic around me. “I too stay in an old Wada. Would you like to visit it? Of course, it’s not stately as the Vishrambaug Wada,” he invited. This was getting interesting. That was it. I had to learn more about the Wadas of Pune before visiting a few of them.
The next couple of days, I gathered as much information as I could on the Wadas of Pune. Just as every region has a distinctive form of architecture, which is largely determined by the climate and building material available locally; as cities prospered, traditional styles for residential complexes to accommodate larger households, came into being. Like the havelis in Rajasthan, or the nallu kettus of Kerala, in Pune, it was the Wada style architecture.
Wadas are dwellings made of, brick and lime plaster with a timber frame. Raised on a high stone plinth, they are generally structured around two courtyards with beautiful facades, balconies and windows. The inner rooms and courtyard, was appropriated by the women folk of the household. It consisted of a large kitchen, store room, prayer room, a birthing room, granary, and cowshed. It also houses the well. The outer courtyard, verandah or osari, rooms, and halls were reserved for guests, meetings with business associates, and working space for accountants and clerks. Most Wadas have a typical heavy wooden door of wooden or metal frame with a smaller opening or dindi for every day use. The doorway has a carved strip with auspicious symbols, known as ganesh pati. They have raised devdis or guard rooms on both sides inside the entrance.
Although the Wada form of construction began in the Maratha period itself, it was during the Peshwa times, and particularly during the later half of the 18th century, that it gained maximum popularity as a residential structure or house form. Traditionally, these are not grand avenues, but basic and functional. But as the city and its affluent community grew, the Wadas flowered into beautiful and luxurious mansions with large durbar halls, intricately carved wooden columns and ceilings, with ivory, copper and gold inlays. Large mirrors, glass paintings, and chandeliers adorned the rooms in the front. Fountains and tulsi shrines in the first and second courtyards respectively, became a common feature. The number of floor levels increased from two to sometimes even seven!
With the onset of Colonial rule in Pune in early 19th Century, the wealthy Puneites had to curb there extravagant lifestyles. Income from friends and relatives in power during Peshwai times, and other dubious sources reduced. Maintenance of large residential Wadas became difficult. With the breaking down of the joint family system, most Wadas ran into further neglect. Many of them were and still are rented out in bits and pieces.
Many Wadas have crumbled down, or pulled down to make way for newer construction. But there are some which still stand strong and resplendent of its old glory. Some of the wells in these old Wadas are still in use, its water just as clear, and unpolluted. I will write about them later. Also, how these Wadas were used for public welfare by the Reformists of the 19th century, and later by freedom fighters.
A walk through the old lanes or peths of Pune will give adequate proof of how the Wada legacy of Peshwai Pune, still dominates the city core. And how they were an integral part of the cities urban growth. Today, when I see how newer constructions dwarf these architectural gems, I feel very sad. Change is inevitable, but it should also make space to conserve our heritage…….
Sunday, September 19, 2010
A leap into Lanka
Monsoon raced me to Lanka. When I boarded the flight at a blazing Trivandrum airport, little did I foresee a turbulent ride through a sky heavy with dark rain clouds. As I joined the rushing passengers, relieved to have landed safely after the rattling experience on board, I wondered what all the haste was for. And the reason dawned on me, only as I got out of the small yet smart airport at Colombo. It was the impending rains. Colombo was pitching dark under great black clouds hovering above, threatening to unleash a storm. Indeed, I had won the race.
My friends warm hug, with a `u got the seasons first rains with you’ greeting made me feel special. It’s a lovely feeling when you are held responsible for the good things in people’s lives. I felt deeply welcome into this tiny country nestled close to mine. The several weeks I took to ponder on my decision to travel to a militant riddled tense country like Sri Lanka had paid off. I had dared only because my visit coincided with one of those intermittent peace spells in the discord between the state and the separatist group demanding an independent Tamil Elam in the North and East of the island.
As we left the airport and sped through the slushy puddles of red lateritic gravel, I grew even closer to the land. The similarity is binding. The landscape, the people, their attire, the weather all reminded me of the very familiar western coast of India. Colombo could have been anywhere in Goa or Kerala!
Many call it the `tear drop’ shaped island. Perhaps true; considering the harrowing years of civil war the country, officially known as the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka, has been through since 1983. But for me this small island nation, less than a stones throw from the Indian coastline, separated by the Gulf of Mannar and the Palk Strait, is like that orange coral pendent that has come loose from the Indian peninsular garland. The trailing chain of 30 km long natural limestone shoal formation so clearly visible under the very shallow sea between the countries can well be remains of that ancient bond. Colonial British reports document it as natural bridge connecting the island to the Indian landmass, which subsequently was destroyed by a storm in the 15th century. Now known to the modern world as Adams Bridge, there are even earlier references to this bridge by 9th century Persian geographer Ibn Khordadebh and mathematician and astronomer Alberuni in 11th century. The northern point of this bridge starts at Danushkodi, in Tamil Nadu’s Rameshwaram Island and ends at the northern end of Mannar Island on the northwestern coast of Srilanka.
For the believer however, it is the remains of the bridge that Lord Rama constructed to cross over to Lanka, to rescue his beloved wife held captive by Ravana, the Asura king of Lanka. It is interesting how myths get woven into natural geological formations. An hours drive to the north of Trivandrum town along the state highway is Jatayupara, a cluster of huge rock boulders. Local tradition has it that Jatayu, the vulture friend of Lord Rama, fell wounded on this rock, while trying to prevent Ravana from kidnapping Sita to Lanka. It is also added that, this is the rock from where Hanuman took his final leap into Lanka.
Whatever the connection, the bonding between the two nations, is very intimate. It is reflected in every aspect of its culture and tradition, including language, script, and cuisine which is akin to states in peninsular India. How much ever a Malayalee or a Tamilian tries to pick on state-wise cultural affinities in Sri Lankan food, to me it seemed a unique blend of gastronomical delights from all over peninsular India. Western flavours in food habits and modernity in traditional costumes however are the remnants of the more recent colonial influences left by the Portuguese, the Dutch and the British since the 16th century. This even includes the name Ceylon, the official name for the island till 1972, given by the Portuguese.
By virtue of its location in the middle of the busy Indian Ocean trade route, the island was frequented by traders from the western and eastern world since ancient times. In fact, the demand for Srilankan cinnamon among the Egyptians is believed to date as far back as 1500 BC. Early Historic Roman trade in Peninsular India extended into Sri Lanka also. The seven UNESCO World heritage Sites are a testimony to the civilizational scale the kingdoms on the island had achieved more than 2000 years ago. These are all located in and around the Cultural Triangle which links ancient Anuradhapura, Medieval Polonnaruwa and the Kandy of recent history. So also are the ancient records in the Pali chronicles especially the Mahavamsa and the Dipavamsa, epigraphical records, and stone inscriptions which give plenty of details of the early historic period in Srilanka.
As effects of coastal trade spread deeper into the island, the indigenous population, known as the Veddas, is said to have moved into the hilly interiors and formed their own kingdom with Kandy as its capital. When the British East India Company colonized the island in 1802, Kandy was a separate Kingdom. Soon the Kingdom fell and Colombo became the administrative centre of colonial rule. Besides the interests in the islands timber, gemstones and other mineral resources, British colonial rule established a series of plantations in rubber, tea, coffee, sugar, cinnamon and indigo on the once densely forested hills and plains. The workforces at these plantations were brought largely from Tamil Nadu. Today Tamils form more than 15% of ethnic minority in Sri Lanka. While Kandy and its surrounding regions form the traditional core of Sinhala population, the regions around Jaffna in the north is the Tamil nerve centre.
I would have loved to travel into the hinterland of these core areas. But back home, I had pledged I wouldn’t wander around unaccompanied in this country. So I left it to my friends to take me to my one and only grand agenda in Sri Lanka – a few days at the Cultural triangle.
My friends warm hug, with a `u got the seasons first rains with you’ greeting made me feel special. It’s a lovely feeling when you are held responsible for the good things in people’s lives. I felt deeply welcome into this tiny country nestled close to mine. The several weeks I took to ponder on my decision to travel to a militant riddled tense country like Sri Lanka had paid off. I had dared only because my visit coincided with one of those intermittent peace spells in the discord between the state and the separatist group demanding an independent Tamil Elam in the North and East of the island.
As we left the airport and sped through the slushy puddles of red lateritic gravel, I grew even closer to the land. The similarity is binding. The landscape, the people, their attire, the weather all reminded me of the very familiar western coast of India. Colombo could have been anywhere in Goa or Kerala!
Many call it the `tear drop’ shaped island. Perhaps true; considering the harrowing years of civil war the country, officially known as the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka, has been through since 1983. But for me this small island nation, less than a stones throw from the Indian coastline, separated by the Gulf of Mannar and the Palk Strait, is like that orange coral pendent that has come loose from the Indian peninsular garland. The trailing chain of 30 km long natural limestone shoal formation so clearly visible under the very shallow sea between the countries can well be remains of that ancient bond. Colonial British reports document it as natural bridge connecting the island to the Indian landmass, which subsequently was destroyed by a storm in the 15th century. Now known to the modern world as Adams Bridge, there are even earlier references to this bridge by 9th century Persian geographer Ibn Khordadebh and mathematician and astronomer Alberuni in 11th century. The northern point of this bridge starts at Danushkodi, in Tamil Nadu’s Rameshwaram Island and ends at the northern end of Mannar Island on the northwestern coast of Srilanka.
For the believer however, it is the remains of the bridge that Lord Rama constructed to cross over to Lanka, to rescue his beloved wife held captive by Ravana, the Asura king of Lanka. It is interesting how myths get woven into natural geological formations. An hours drive to the north of Trivandrum town along the state highway is Jatayupara, a cluster of huge rock boulders. Local tradition has it that Jatayu, the vulture friend of Lord Rama, fell wounded on this rock, while trying to prevent Ravana from kidnapping Sita to Lanka. It is also added that, this is the rock from where Hanuman took his final leap into Lanka.
Whatever the connection, the bonding between the two nations, is very intimate. It is reflected in every aspect of its culture and tradition, including language, script, and cuisine which is akin to states in peninsular India. How much ever a Malayalee or a Tamilian tries to pick on state-wise cultural affinities in Sri Lankan food, to me it seemed a unique blend of gastronomical delights from all over peninsular India. Western flavours in food habits and modernity in traditional costumes however are the remnants of the more recent colonial influences left by the Portuguese, the Dutch and the British since the 16th century. This even includes the name Ceylon, the official name for the island till 1972, given by the Portuguese.
By virtue of its location in the middle of the busy Indian Ocean trade route, the island was frequented by traders from the western and eastern world since ancient times. In fact, the demand for Srilankan cinnamon among the Egyptians is believed to date as far back as 1500 BC. Early Historic Roman trade in Peninsular India extended into Sri Lanka also. The seven UNESCO World heritage Sites are a testimony to the civilizational scale the kingdoms on the island had achieved more than 2000 years ago. These are all located in and around the Cultural Triangle which links ancient Anuradhapura, Medieval Polonnaruwa and the Kandy of recent history. So also are the ancient records in the Pali chronicles especially the Mahavamsa and the Dipavamsa, epigraphical records, and stone inscriptions which give plenty of details of the early historic period in Srilanka.
As effects of coastal trade spread deeper into the island, the indigenous population, known as the Veddas, is said to have moved into the hilly interiors and formed their own kingdom with Kandy as its capital. When the British East India Company colonized the island in 1802, Kandy was a separate Kingdom. Soon the Kingdom fell and Colombo became the administrative centre of colonial rule. Besides the interests in the islands timber, gemstones and other mineral resources, British colonial rule established a series of plantations in rubber, tea, coffee, sugar, cinnamon and indigo on the once densely forested hills and plains. The workforces at these plantations were brought largely from Tamil Nadu. Today Tamils form more than 15% of ethnic minority in Sri Lanka. While Kandy and its surrounding regions form the traditional core of Sinhala population, the regions around Jaffna in the north is the Tamil nerve centre.
I would have loved to travel into the hinterland of these core areas. But back home, I had pledged I wouldn’t wander around unaccompanied in this country. So I left it to my friends to take me to my one and only grand agenda in Sri Lanka – a few days at the Cultural triangle.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Trivandrum Heritage....
http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-features/tp-metroplus/article519399.ece
U nder the guise of ‘development,' among the many things disappearing from the city are heritage buildings. It's sad to see some of these gems being chomped up gluttonously by JCBs, paving way to new swanky showrooms, apartments and mansions.
As compared to its neighbouring states, Kerala doesn't have too many grand structures in stone. Instead it has its own unique style of architecture. Modest and elegant in appearance, they are a class apart in grandeur. These are predominantly made of laterite and wood. Unfortunately both of these building materials cannot withstand the vagaries of time, without proper care in a tropical region like Kerala. For the same reasons, the State has only a few surviving monuments that can be dated to ancient and early historic period, and they are mostly made in stone or are those where the ancient core of the structure has been rebuilt several times.
But what the State has in abundance are buildings that were built in the last 300 years. These include various small and big palaces, official buildings, many temples, churches, mosques and some forts. Most of them were renovated and maintained over time by the ruling kings of the Cochin and Travancore royal families and the Madras Presidency in Malabar.
And the capital city of Thiruvananthapuram is strewn with fine examples of structures built in the last few centuries. After the formation of the princely state of Travancore by Marthanda Varma (1729-58 AD), the capital of the State was shifted to Thiruvananthapuram in 1790 AD, from the earlier headquarters at Padmanabhapuram, now in Kanyakumari district of Tamil Nadu. Fort walls were erected to guard the seat of power.
Thus came into being the East Fort with the imposing Padmanabhaswamy temple at its centre. The temple is the finest example of Dravidian temple architecture within Kerala, and in all probability has a much ancient core. The precincts of the East Fort, has a wealth of architectural features criss-crossing the maze of old lanes and by lanes. This includes the amazing Kuthiramalika palace, the royal residence consisting of a series of ornately carved nalukettu buildings.
The fortified city also has the temple pond, many smaller Hindu shrines, religious institutions and shalai supported by the royal house, several minor palaces, mansions, agraharams (street or complex of Brahmin households), houses, and bazars, which are all a fine example of town planning and architecture of the period.
The other focal point around which the city grew 200 years ago was Palayam or the Cantonment area. It formed the hub for public offices, educational centres, museum and even a zoo. Forking out from this nodal point many areas grew into prominence, one such being the road leading to the Kowdiar Palace, the present main residence of the royal family of erstwhile Travancore.
Besides these, the city and its outskirt are dotted with fine examples of heritage architecture. But except for the religious structures, and a couple of prime palaces, most of the structures are neglected, including the fort walls. It's desperately in need of proper survey and documentation. Monitoring of new construction activities within the fort area can save it from the growing chaos. With restoration work that doesn't tinker with the age old charm, and also strengthens these heritage structures, there are various innovative ways these buildings can be put to use. But before that citizens, especially the younger generation, need to know of this wealth of heritage or `paitrukam' around them.
Bina Thomas
(The author is a consultant archaeologist)
U nder the guise of ‘development,' among the many things disappearing from the city are heritage buildings. It's sad to see some of these gems being chomped up gluttonously by JCBs, paving way to new swanky showrooms, apartments and mansions.
As compared to its neighbouring states, Kerala doesn't have too many grand structures in stone. Instead it has its own unique style of architecture. Modest and elegant in appearance, they are a class apart in grandeur. These are predominantly made of laterite and wood. Unfortunately both of these building materials cannot withstand the vagaries of time, without proper care in a tropical region like Kerala. For the same reasons, the State has only a few surviving monuments that can be dated to ancient and early historic period, and they are mostly made in stone or are those where the ancient core of the structure has been rebuilt several times.
But what the State has in abundance are buildings that were built in the last 300 years. These include various small and big palaces, official buildings, many temples, churches, mosques and some forts. Most of them were renovated and maintained over time by the ruling kings of the Cochin and Travancore royal families and the Madras Presidency in Malabar.
And the capital city of Thiruvananthapuram is strewn with fine examples of structures built in the last few centuries. After the formation of the princely state of Travancore by Marthanda Varma (1729-58 AD), the capital of the State was shifted to Thiruvananthapuram in 1790 AD, from the earlier headquarters at Padmanabhapuram, now in Kanyakumari district of Tamil Nadu. Fort walls were erected to guard the seat of power.
Thus came into being the East Fort with the imposing Padmanabhaswamy temple at its centre. The temple is the finest example of Dravidian temple architecture within Kerala, and in all probability has a much ancient core. The precincts of the East Fort, has a wealth of architectural features criss-crossing the maze of old lanes and by lanes. This includes the amazing Kuthiramalika palace, the royal residence consisting of a series of ornately carved nalukettu buildings.
The fortified city also has the temple pond, many smaller Hindu shrines, religious institutions and shalai supported by the royal house, several minor palaces, mansions, agraharams (street or complex of Brahmin households), houses, and bazars, which are all a fine example of town planning and architecture of the period.
The other focal point around which the city grew 200 years ago was Palayam or the Cantonment area. It formed the hub for public offices, educational centres, museum and even a zoo. Forking out from this nodal point many areas grew into prominence, one such being the road leading to the Kowdiar Palace, the present main residence of the royal family of erstwhile Travancore.
Besides these, the city and its outskirt are dotted with fine examples of heritage architecture. But except for the religious structures, and a couple of prime palaces, most of the structures are neglected, including the fort walls. It's desperately in need of proper survey and documentation. Monitoring of new construction activities within the fort area can save it from the growing chaos. With restoration work that doesn't tinker with the age old charm, and also strengthens these heritage structures, there are various innovative ways these buildings can be put to use. But before that citizens, especially the younger generation, need to know of this wealth of heritage or `paitrukam' around them.
Bina Thomas
(The author is a consultant archaeologist)
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