Ikkeri Aghoreshwara

The Kings ruling from Keladi were actually known as Ikkeri Kings ( ಎರಡು ಕೇರಿ = ಇಕ್ಕೇರಿ ) The origin of Ikkeri ( Two streets) Kingdom as that of any other Kingdom is largely unclear as the founders have humble beginnings. Only later are the myths added, life histories written and Monuments built in their memory.
According to Sivatattvaratnakara a Sanskrit literary work written by Basavaraja in 1698-1715, Chauda and Bhadra were two of the four sons of Basavappa and Basavamma. Chauda had a dream of finding treasure and he is supposed to have found it. This increased his prestige and finally hearing of the influence of Chauda the Vijayanagara King, appointed him the Governor of Pulladesha (present day Ikkeri?) and gave him the title Keladi Chaudappa Nayaka.

Aghoreshwara Temple

A magnificent Aghoreshwara Temple now survives at Ikkeri proclaiming the earlier greatness of the place. The Temple has influences from the Vijayanagara, Karnata Dravida, Chalukya and even Deccan Sultanate architecture styles. The original 32 handed Aghoreshwara Idol that was in the Girbagriha was destroyed during a raid by the Bijapur Sultanate and only the decapitated pedestal now survives in the Temple courtyard.

The pedestal of the broken Aghoreshwara Statue at the Temple courtyard

The pedestal of the broken Aghoreshwara Statue at the Temple courtyard

The Girbagriha now has a Linga and the original Nandi carved out of Spar survives and glows in the dark.

The Linga and the Nandi in the Sanctum Sanctorum

There is also a huge embellished Nandi is also at the entrance of the Temple.

 There is also a line sketch of the Architects (Vaastushilpi) who built the Temple.

The Architects of the Aghoreshwara Temple

There is another smaller Temple dedicated to Goddess Akhilandeshwari is also present in the larger Temple complex.

Akhilandeshwari Temple

The Temple surroundings were also very pleasant with friendly neighbourhood. An aged couple living next to the temple invited us for a cup of coffee, but due to lack of time we could not accept which I now regret .
However we did visit the backyard of a house where they were plucking Mangoes and they gifted us a couple of fruits.

Mangoes!!!

Another surprise was a pineapple plant with one solitary fruit. I had just set my eyes on a pineapple plant for the first time and I was thrilled.

Pineapple!!!

We left with a heavy heart and the rain was coming on in spurts and carried a cold wind that was just short of biting!!!!!!

Leaving the Aghoreshwara Temple

Keladi

The long due Monsoon rains started as we were driving through Sagar in Malenadu near Shivamogga. The wind screamed through the windshield and cool rain splattered on to our faces. We kept the windows open.

The road curved every now and then like someone stretching himself after a good night's sleep. It was lined with tall trees all along and interrupted by bushes and shrubs at a few places. Soon we were at Keladi. This sleepy village was once the Capital of Keladi Kingdom. At first a feudatory of the Vijayanagara Empire, Keladi later became independent after the debacle of the Vijayanagara Empire at Talikote.

Today there is a Historical Museum and Research Centre set up due to efforts of Rashtra Kavi Kuvempu. There are more than 5000 palm leaf books, many copper plates, Hundreds of feet of "Kadatha" (The writing & filing system of erstwhile Kings and their courts. It is made up of cloth painted with charcoal etc and written using soft stone ( Balapa), Sculptures, Paintings (Done using natural pigments extracted from fruits & flowers), rare letters written by the Mysore Maharajas and their Dewans, Utensils & attire from a bygone era etc

The Keladi Kingdom was established by Chaudappa Nayaka around 1500. During the reign of Hiriya Venkatappa Nayaka, Keladi unfettered itself from the truncated Vijayanagara Empire that had relocated to Penugonda and proclaimed itself to be a completely independent Kingdom consisting of the coastal regions, Malanadu ( Hilly region including the western ghats) and some parts of Bayaluseeme (Plains) in Karnataka.

Keladi was a rich Kingdom with trade relations overseas. It had a burgeoning trade in spices and kept the marauding Portuguese at bay. Shivappa Nayaka was the most successful king from this lineage. He is known as Sistina Shivappa Nayaka (Sistu - Tax on land holdings) a very able administrator and Keladi was very prosperous with great encouragement given to the Arts & Literature, had the resources to maintain a standing army, powerful and well trained. He is known in history for administrative reforms that were pioneering efforts in many ways and a template for later rulers. Todarmal, the Finance Minister in Akbar the Great's court was very much impressed by the system introduced by the Keladi Kings.

The Rameshwara Temple at Keladi today stands as testimony to the creative achievements of Keladi. It also has some very fine sculptures. Many myths are associated with the temple as well. There is a Measuring  scale etched in the temple that was a standard for measuring Land Holdings etc

The most famous of the Keladi rulers was Keladi Chennamma, a brave heart who stood up against the Moghuls and made them sue for a treaty with Keladi on favorable terms to her Kingdom. She had invited the wrath of the Moghuls as she had given shelter to Chatrapati Rajaram, son of that Great Indian Conqueror, Chatrapati Shivaji. Rajaram was fleeing the Moghul army to Jinji in South India and Rani Chennamma hosted him (Not to be confused with another illustrious queen of Kannada, Rani Chennamma of Kittur)

This incident has been captured for posterity at the Rameshwara Temple. It shows Rani Chennamma with Chatrapati Shivaji and Rajaram.

Lord Veerabadreshwara with his Symbol, Scorpion - Rameshwara Temple, Keladi

Gandabherunda - The Mythical Bird

A realistic sculpting of a Parrot feeding her baby

In Search of Siddhi

Long back people of India worshipped Hills. It was called Parvatha Pooje or Giri Pooje. Especially in South India. It was no Deity or God they worshipped but just the Hills themselves. This was because Hills provided everything they needed. It was their first Home. Hills were embedded in their Primal Psyche. Man first lived in Caves, which gave him protection from the Elements & Wild beasts. As he started to understand that he could grow food and need not Hunt it always, he must have begun to experiment in farming and moved down towards flat Land and flowing Water. Still, he lived nearer to Hills and invariably there were forests in the Hills. Hills provided everything the Early Man needed. Food, he could hunt or gather there. He found Firewood for warmth and cooking. Hills yielded Herbs and many medicinal Plants and insects which were life saving during illnesses. Gave him Honey ...He could go there for Ritualistic Hunting now.....And so at the merest opportunity Man takes off to the Hills even now!!!

The Races & peoples of South India including the Dravidians are as ancient as the Aryans and have been inhabiting the Indian Sub-continent from early ages. In the beginning they were spread all over the sub-continent from Afghanistan to the southern tip of India.

Language of Brahui, now spoken in Balochistan, Turkemenistan, Afganistan, Sind by a few tribes is a Dravidian Language most closely related to Kannada (Canarese in the western Lingo)

The Culture of Pre-Aryan India was Unique and in its nascent stage developed independently of the Vedic Or Aryan Culture.It came face to face with the Sanskrit speaking early Aryans and thereafter it was a Synthesis of the Two cultures.
There is a belief that the Vedic Culture as we know it today was the same three and more thousand years ago. This cannot be true as cultures interact with each other and do not remain the same. Even as native cultures came in contact with the Aryan they too began to change even while keeping many of the tribal traditions, customs , languages alive.

One of the most significant ritual of these early tribals was the worshiping of Hills. There was no Idol but just the Hills. "Worship" was not as we know it today. The people would go to the Hills , spend time there, spruce up a cave there, cook food, eat and come back. There would always be a cave at the hilltop. This Ritual is very much alive even today with many South Indians.Hills and Mountains have always been held in high esteem. This is manifest in the fact that some of the earliest Kannada names people gave their Children was Parvathappa ( Of the Mountains ), Giriyappa ( Of the Hills), Guddappa ( Of the Hillocks). This name lives on today with Kids still being named after Hills... as in Girish!!!
Siddara Betta ( Hills of the siddhas, Siddala Konda in Telugu ) is about 70 KM from Bangalore. It is a hillock with a cave at the top and a natural Health Spa inside the cave . The water has a very salubrious effect. Inside the cave there is a Linga , the symbol of Shiva which is worshipped. Linga or the Phallic Symbol is found in the Indus valley civilisation excavations at Harappa & Mohenjodaro and also at Lothal. It is a pre-Vedic religious symbol integrated into the Hindu religion & Vedic culture and points to the influence of the natives on the Vedic.

Siddi or Siddhi means attainments or achievements. It also means one who has attained, achieved. These are spiritual attainments and takes a lot of "Sadhane"( Effort, Perseverance, Penance) to achieve. One of the important criteria for becoming a Siddi is to lose the Ego. Shed all desires. And yearn to know the truth.Become one with the All. Siddi( One who has attained) is an Ascetic, living a frugal life meditating for months on end. They were akin to the Sages, Seers and Rishis of the Vedic tradition and were the keepers of Knowledge and Wisdom in society. These people were held in high esteem.

Siddis were also experts at using herbs, minerals for curing ailments and were equivalent to doctors of Modern society . Sidda medicine evolved to a great and an exacting science and is used by a significant number of people in India even today.
The climb atop Siddara Betta seemed easy but it was not.

Steps only led upto a point and after that steps were carved right on to the hillock with a supporting rail and the going was tough.
This too is the trail!!!

But as you reach the top, walk inside the dark cave and pour the chilling water from the Spa on your head, all the weariness will drain away and you will be refreshed!!!


Most fascinatingly this hill and the cave with the Linga has been worshipped by my family for as long as anybody can remember. Though we may visit other Temples and worship other Gods this one has a unique place. My forefathers have been coming here for generations together. It is a cave that was earlier almost inaccessible.

Yet every baby born in my family is brought here on its first birthday,wherever on earth that family might be residing, and its hair is cut or shaved in sacrifice . Only after this ritual is the baby taken to the neighborhood Hairdresser for the weekly cut.

My father, who is 67 years now had come to Siddara Betta after his first birth day. I came here when I was One and so did my Sister and brother. My grandfather remembered coming here when he was a kid and used to narrate how dangerous it was to make the journey to Siddara Betta from his village 70 KM away. Wild animals were prowling about and proper roads or transport were absent. They would travel on Bullock carts for days to reach Siddara Betta. My brother brought his kids here for their first hair cut. It is thrilling to speculate that people must have been visiting this cave for hundreds of years!!!

Shiva, the greatest of all the Siddis is always smeared in Ash, signifying that everything returns to the nothing it came from. And you would be too if you visited the cave at Siddara Betta!!!

One Evening in the Life of ..... A Story

Part: One
And then all was still. The tiny, jingling bells stringed to her anklets had fallen silent. Her flailing arms, vainly trying to grasp the thin air, had collapsed by her side. The intermittent gurgling had stopped.

His heart beat wildly. His eyes were clasped shut. His breath had frozen inside his belly and he could feel the jaw muscles stretched across his chin.
He slowly opened his eyes and his gaze fell on the pillow and traveled to his clenched fists, pressing the pillow down on her buried face with all their might. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the nail on her little finger had broken. It had pierced the skin of her palm and a trickle of blood ran down across it, had started to coagulate in mid air and seemed to be contemplating falling on to the bed sheet.

His heart still beat fast but he noticed it was rhythmic and this knowledge calmed him some more. He relaxed a little and slowly, very slowly unclenched his fists. He tried to imagine what she looked like under the pillow but was surprised, as he was unable to visualize anything. “Anyway, I don’t want to see her right now” he thought and let the pillow remain.

Everything had gone according to plan. He had not made any noise and had not let her struggle much. He got up and tiptoed to the front door and peeped through the keyhole. There was no one. Of course he knew that. The couple staying below had gone abroad on a short assignment and their flat was locked and the couple above never came back before nine…and it was only five now. The building had only one apartment per floor, three flats in all, but he was convinced that the man above was the snooping kind and wanted to be sure no one had heard anything. (“He is not home now”, thought he, even as he squinted through the hole.)

He tiptoed back to the room and sat down on the chair with his back towards her. He pressed both palms face down on the massive wooden table (…family heirloom…solid Burma Teak…costing him 20 thousand rupees to transport from Delhi…) It felt cool and comforting and he remained like that. He wanted to know what he felt like. He concentrated hard but felt empty. He felt nothing.

He did not have much time left but he wanted to linger a bit, think about her a bit, about the short time they spent together. His passport and all other travel documents were in his briefcase. He had double-checked all his flight tickets. He had to catch the 11.00 pm flight to Mumbai and then onto the United States in the wee hours tomorrow. He would have to lie low for a few days until the coast was clear for him to proceed to Brazil. He would join his cousin there…start afresh…it was all planned. He was a great one for planning. That was a given and he felt safe in that knowledge.

As he sat there, thinking, it appeared very surprising that they had never had an argument, had never even spoken harshly to each other. And now he had killed her. “Cuckold” he whispered and with a more determined voice said “Never”. He felt very sad but knew he had done the correct thing.

He remembered her hurried conversations on the phone, as he entered the room unannounced, the sarcastic look she gave him before she disconnected.
Her late nights at the office, long drives with colleagues and the disinterest in him of late had all driven him to despair. He had fallen desperately in love with her and was ashamed to admit that she was the only woman he had ever got close to in his life. But he was a Man and was not the kind to sit and mope and wring his hands. He had never confronted her with his doubts, as he could never bring himself to broach the subject.

He had enough evidence and had furtively recorded her conversations with a hard male voice (He had gone to great lengths to learn how to do this, browsing the net for hours on end!)The quality of the recording was bad but he could recognize the tenderness with which they spoke to each other. It was all over now and he looked at his watch. It was 8.00 and thought he should be leaving now.

He took a sheet of paper and wrote “No newspaper. No Milk”. He slowly tiptoed to the door, opened it and glued it on. He came back and sat on the bed next to her dead body but did not look at her. He let out a long sigh and with firm steps went inside.

Part: Two

They broke open the door when the stench got unbearable and found the woman lying dead on the cot with her face covered by a pillow. The Man dangled from the ceiling and it was obvious he had killed her before taking his own life. They did not find a suicide note but a piece of paper with a few lines of verse hurriedly copied on it.

He did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead,
The poor dead woman whom he loved,
And murdered in her bed.
………………………………………………

Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
………………………………………………
………………………………………………

And there, till Christ call forth the dead,
In silence let him lie:
No need to waste the foolish tear,
Or heave the windy sigh:
The man had killed the thing he loved,
And so he had to die.

A Happy New Year to One & all !!!

Let this New Year lead everyone to Peace & Prosperity !!!

A Magic Carpet Ride !!!

During the last years of Muhammad Bin Tughlaq's reign many of his southern commanders broke free from the Delhi sultanate taking advantage of the loosening grip of the Sultan to establish their own kingdoms. The Bahmani Kingdom established by Zafar Khan alias Hasan Gangu alias Alauddin Hasan with its capital at Gulbarga is the most important. He ascended the throne as Allauddin Bahman Shah.

After the demise of Firoz Shah Bahmani, Capital of Bahmanis was shifted to Bidar by Ahmed Shah Wali, ninth Bahmani ruler. He was moving his capital farther away from Hampi, Capital of the great Vijayanagara Empire, bulwark against Muslim rule in South India. Bidar fort was completely rebuilt by him and his next two successors by demolishing the already existing structure possibly constructed during Kalyana Chalukya period.

It was pretty cold for a Hyderabad morning when I and Hareesh left for Bidar, planning to reach there by 8.00 am . Bidar in Karnataka is just 135 KM from Hyderabad. Bidar is a dusty and hot place perched at the top as if it were a crown on some regal head, a crown buried in oblivion. But it was December and the weather turned pleasant soon.

Soon we were on the Highway in Hareesh's car with a thin traffic of trucks. We stopped over for a smoke right outside Kukatpally and made a tentative itinerary. We would visit the fort, tombs and Gurudwara before heading back.
Just on the outskirts we came across farmers transporting sugarcane to the mills and families travelling on bullock carts to the city.



There was a convoy of carts taking sugarcane to the mills. It was an idyllic scene and I wondered how long this could continue. With India embracing free market and trying to integrate with the global economy, Indian farmer is on the verge of extinction. I remembered my own childhood and visits to my village, the tall sugarcane fields with a small crusher right amidst them where jaggery ( Brown, coarse sugar) was made. The night long romps with cousins and friends eating hot jaggery.


We passed through Sangareddy, a small town and through Zaheerabad. There we bought some Guavas, just ripening. I smelt the aroma of the fresh fruit and remembered reading Garcia Marquez. In Latin America they keep a bowl of ripe Guavas in the room instead of spraying some chemical room freshener.
Personally I don’t like ripe Guavas and their nauseating smell of ripeness. The skin is a cadaverous yellow. Pale and sickly. The Ripe already has a certain decay clinging to it. I prefer fruit that are neither raw nor fully ripe. Guavas, which are in the process of becoming, on their way to attaining their full scope and range before withering away. Fruit in transit, I like to call them. They are more interesting and taste good.

We reached Bidar and immediately proceeded towards the fort. It was magnificent with a moat running all round it. There were ruins of huge palaces with colored tiles and built with black granite.

We also saw the solah Kambh (16 pillars) Mosque which was getting a face lift.

Bidar was mostly ruled by two Dynasties, Bahmanis and Barid Shahis.

Any talk about Bidar will be incomplete if I did not tell you all about a fascinating personality who was Vazir or Prime Minister to three Bahmani rulers. He was a warrior, a scholar, and a diplomat par excellence. He was also a philanthropist and built many Mosques etc. He was Mohammud Gavan, a native of Persia. He built the Madarasa of Mohammad Gavan, a imposing structure, a religious college with a library that held more than five thousand titles!!!
Scholars and students came from all parts of the Islamic world to study here. Struck by lightening and public apathy, it is in ruins today.

There is a tradition of Sufi saints all over India particularly in those areas where Muslim rule was predominant. Sufism in India is a synthesis of Vedic thought and Islam. These saints came from far flung places in the Islamic world and Baba Budan came from Ethiopia to Chickmaglur in Karnataka and is credited with bringing Coffee beans to turn Chickmaglur into the Coffee bowl of India and the world.

There is another very interesting Sufi saint of Bidar, Baba Rahmatullah Kirmani. His Dargah is on the way to the Bahmani Tombs and he seems to have been held in high esteem by the People. He is supposed to have come from Kirman in Persia flying a Magic Carpet to Bidar, taking just One and a Half hours for the journey!!! It is very much possible that he was brought by the Barid Shahi rulers to crown them and gain some sort of legitimacy after they became independent of Bahmanis.
Bidar is also an important place for Sikh pilgrimage and Guru Nanak, the founder of the Sikh religion came to Bidar during his early travels. There was acute shortage of potable water and touched by the plight of the common folk he is said to have moved some rubble with his toe and fresh water sprang up at the spot!

Today there is the Karanja reservoir to supply water to the parched lands of Bidar. This was built quite recently even though it is a known fact of many centuries that water is scarce in these parts.

We visited the Bahmani Tombs and it was by far the most impressive of all the ruins that stand today. It reminds one of Shelly's Ozymandias and you can't but wonder at the hopelessness of it all. Yet you find ruler after ruler trying to attain immortality through building gigantic monuments . It is the same all over the world and one more proof that Men are the same all over at all times.

We decided to visit Basavakalyana. A most fascinating story unraveled in these parts in the 12th century. It is the story of Sharanas, Jangamas and Vachanas. A protestant religion came into being; in order to give new life to a stagnant and decadent social order. At the helm was a minister in the Chalukya rule, Basavanna. This town before him was simply known as Kalyana, Capital of the Chalukya Kingdom and after him as Basavakalyana. It shows no signs of its earlier greatness(apart from the ruined fort), having lost prestige long back, turning into one of the many tens of thousands of such nondescript towns in India.

Then at a little distance from the town was Anubhava Mantapa.It was an incredible experience to tread the ground on which the Vachanakaras had trod and harangued with the people. Allama, Basavanna, Akka, Siddarama, and a thousand other Sharanas sang here. The power of the spoken word was demonstrated here with a decisiveness that lasts to this day. Poetry was written in simple everyday language. The deepest, most profound thoughts were discussed in the common Man's language. In case you want to experience the beauty of these Vachanas, read “Speaking of Shiva” an anthology by AK Ramanujan, a brilliant translation from Kannada to English.This is a pioneering work of translation and is regarded as the work of a genius adept in English, Kannada and Tamil.

There was a serious attempt to liberate the people from the clutches of organised religion and the cultural hegemony of a select few.These privileged classes had maintained steadfastly their privileges through a vice-like grip on Language,Temples and Priesthood that can put today’s business Corporations and Intellectual Property lawyers to shame. The caste system was rigid affording no opportunity for escape or for upward social mobility. Birth determined your social and material condition. All knowledge and Education was the sole prerogative of very few in society.

To the sharanas, Body became the temple and Work, Worship. Through work you could attain salvation. One need not be born a Brahmin, know Vedas, perform Homa, Havana or undertake pilgrimages to holy places to attain "Moksha" or salvation. Whatever a Man's occupation, doing his work diligently was enough to attain liberation from the eternal cycle of births and rebirths.Trying to rid people of superstitions they were ridiculed and persecuted. Basavanna’s attempts at intercaste marriage ended tragically.
Most ironically they have built a temple for Basavanna!

Meanwhile,the Juggernaut of Sanathana Dharma rolls on swallowing, ingesting and excreting religions and movements. Buddha is supposed to be a reincarnation Of Vishnu and Charvaka's Atheism an offshoot of Vedic philosophy!!!

Hair apparent.... Hair Un-apparent!?

During the visit to Gurudwara we were asked to cover our heads before we entered the Sanctum Sanctorum. This got me thinking. Why this dislike for hair? Every faith and culture seems to be prejudiced in this aspect.
Long hair has been celebrated in every literature of the world. Long tresses have maddened lovers for ages. While shiny, black hair is loved in the East, it is the blond that is held in high esteem in the West.Hair as black as the night, they say and that is as it should be since the night is a beautiful and a mysterious time.

It is understandable to cover your head in the kitchen lest some of it drop onto the food you are cooking. A swimmer wears a smooth cap to reduce friction since every split second matters. A king wears the crown as a symbol of his authority.

But we also see cutting hair as a symbol of renunciation. Buddha, after leaving his family and riches in search of the Eternal Truth, shaved his head at the first opportunity. Jains go a step further and pluck their hair by their roots enduring excruciating pain. Monks of every faith shave their heads to a severe gloss. Muslim women and Christian Nuns as also some Hindu women cover their heads. Sikhs entomb theirs in a Turban.
When did Headgear become a part of the Human dress code? What made them adopt it? When did it attain fame and prestige? Was it the clime? The various headgear of every country makes for a fascinating study.........
On the outskirts of today's Bidar there is a very interesting temple. It is in a cave and a stream runs through it. The Idol is a good 600 feet inside the cave and you have to wade through chest high water to reach it.
The God is Narasimha (Nara = Man and Simha = Lion) He is the God with the face of a lion and the body of a Man. This is another incarnation of Lord Vishnu, come down to Earth to slay a Demon, Hiranyakashipu and save the world from his evil clutches. Here in the Bidar cave he is Jharini Narasimha Swamy or Lord Narasimha of the stream. Jhari, which is a beautiful Kannada word, means Stream or rivulet. I had almost forgotten the word and felt a high on recollecting it. Jaaru in Kannada means Slide. A stream is forever sliding and slithering. Did Jhari bring about Jaaru?
In another temple close by devotional music was being played by a Master Musician and his group.



This was our last place of visit and we were seen off by a lovely pair of birds perched atop electric lines running outside the Temple.