Khajuraho: The Apotheosis of the Graven Image

We took a plane to Khajuraho, 300 miles away, at 12:30 pm on Friday, arriving at their modest airport in less than an hour. The trip to the Radisson Jass Hotel Khajuraho took less than 15 minutes. Our taxi walla, seemed to be a transportation manager and guide. He sat in the passenger seat in the front, while someone else drove. He offered to provide us transportation for our entire stay, reminding us that he liked to give good service, a self-promotion that made us a bit uncomfortable. The fare was 250 rs. for that short jaunt.

We checked in to this sumptuous hotel and admired its marble staircase, decorative atrium pool graced by a reclining marble semi-nude female figure in the Roman style, its brass incense burner, all to the accompaniment of a Mozart symphony.

Then we took the same taxi into town, for which he charged us 100 rs. though it was only about 400 meters from the hotel. Barbara stayed at the hotel to enjoy its amenities, mainly the swimming pool, while I headed into town to get a head start on visiting the temples, since I always took much longer than she did.
The taxi walla insisted on taking my money and buying my ticket (250 rs.), part of his "total service" that I was already uncomfortable with, but soon I was loose wandering through the temples of the Western group, the main group of temples. These were all built in the 9th and 10th Centuries, but fell into obscurity soon aftewards, and were only rediscovered, presumably surrounded by jungle, in 1835, by an Englishman. The erotic content of many of their carvings maintained their status of special secret, only known to cognoscenti, until well into the 20th Century.
         I had first become aware of Khajuraho in the late sixties when I saw a large black and white photo book that emphasized its erotic statuary and acquired a copy for myself about ten years later. Since then tourism to Khajuraho has exploded, and those same erotic statues that kept it secret for a century became the engine for the construction of a range of hotels and its small airport. I also made reference to Khajuraho in one of my body projections that I created in 2007, when I had a couple model for me nude.

Khajuraho Kiss, 2007

And here's the original: 

         My main surprise upon visiting the actual temples was that the statuary is only about 15% erotic; the rest of it is Indian mythological iconographic, but all of it is in the same erotically provocative style, with out-thrust swaying hips. Male as well as female figures strike this pose, with very few exceptions. It's the kind of pose that female models today assume, and one sees it all the time in the advertising pages of major upscale publications. Not all Indian statuary of this period assumed these poses. The stone figures from the same period in the DKD Art and Archaeological Museum on the campus of Banaras Hindu University stand frontal and straight like most statuary from classic periods of many cultures, starting with the Egyptian, although there were two notable exceptions, including one of a woman in a provocative dance. Of course, all the European Christian statues of that period stood quite straight, and I liked to joke with the Indians I shared this observation with that the result of that contrast in pose in India was...overpopulation. But if you also add in the fact that the main symbol of Christianity represents a torturous death, whereas a major object of worship in Hindu temples is the Shiva Lingam (phallus), a squat stone cylinder that devotees lean over to kiss, and the village obelisks that dot the landscape from the air, one can only conclude that the culture worships the generative principle (as the Romans did), whereas Christianity declared sexual desire a sin, to be atoned for and regulated by the Church.
Every temple in the three complexes of Khajuraho is an actively holy place, so I was constantly taking off my shoes before climbing the last set of stairs to enter each one. Most people wore flip-flops or sandals, but I was in my hiking boots, and could only think how much easier yarmulkas are.
Walking around the outside of each temple one discovers the famous erotic ensembles amidst the scores of carvings in rows, all the way up most of the temple towers. They were in astonishingly good shape, given their age--the benefit of all those centuries of obscurity.  Guides in several languages would point them out using a hand mirror to reflect the sun. My telephoto lens was, of course, essential. And the subjects repeated themselves throughout the temples: one saw the same poses, erotic and otherwise, three to four times through all 22 temples. The guides referred to the erotic ensembles as "kama sutra."

The interior of the temples was illuminated only by window light, and that was skylight, the same in the late afternoon as at any other time of day. All of the larger temples contained an inner sanctum, with a Shiva Lingam or stone effigy of a god or gods. One first walked around the inner sanctum and observed the statuary close-up. Here one found some more refined themes than those of the exterior, most notably the woman holding a love letter, or a mother with baby. The gentle, highly directional light contributed to the mysterium of these statues and the decorative cornices that framed them. The inner sancta were much darker and simpler in decor. Some temples had an attendant or a guide who would point out the less obvious erotic sculptures and give the names of the deities. I had thought I could make the visit on my own, but I found the good-natured guides quite informative, and I left feeling I had a better grasp of the basics of the Hindu pantheon. For example, Vishnu is always depicted with a tall hat; Brahma has three faces; Agni the fire god has a mustache and beard; Lakshmi is Vishnu's wife. Ganesh, the elephant-headed god, seemed particularly ubiquitous, and I got the impression that he is especially beloved. Hanuman, the monkey god, made an occasional appearance. The deities struck provocative poses, but none engaged in eplicitly erotic acts. These acts were there as part of the normal activities of human life, along with war-making, which was also extensively represented. Faces were not individuated; all are idealized--except for Agni's facial hair.

One of the attendants standing next to a Shiva Lingnam, the stylized phallic symbol that is venerated during their religious service.

An interior alter with a headless Vishnu.

Looking directly up at one of the many amazing receding ceilings of the entryways to the temples.

I went through every temple quite thoroughly, four of them the first afternoon, and all the rest on the second day. My driver took me to the two other complexes, which had fewer temples, but they were still important to see. There are 22 temples in all, the remains of a reputed 85 of them. Between complexes my guide took me into his village. He explained that he was of a higher cast than most of the other villagers, so they were obliged to respect him. When children swarmed around me, he instructed me not to give them money, but asked me for 300 rs to by "chocolates," their generic word for candy. He came back a few minutes later with two plastic bags full of wrapped hard candy, and as he gave it out he tried to coordinate with my picture taking. It was a scene from a zoo.

I was eager to see interiors, so first he showed me his home, then that of a friend, who treated me very cordially and offered to show me his miniatures.

They were exquisite recent  paintings on silk and paper. Of course, they were for sale. I fell in love with two of them and bargained him down from 7000 rs to 6000 rs. He allowed me to photograph some of the others, which glowed in the shafts of sunlight.

         I managed to spend some time walking around the village, my only village experience in India. Not many people were in the streets at that hour of the hot afternoon, but the architecture, the perspectives, the occasional figures, and the signs of use were fascinating. Especially interesting were the dates of polio vaccination, which were painted in red or blue on the white adobe next to each main doorway. I was glad to see a sign of the government's active concern for public health. The other major one was the provision of fresh, clean water from pumps in villages and cities throughout the country. These became the bathing sites for most poor families.

Dates of polio vaccination painted on doorway.

Other messages, presumably devotional ones.

A private shrine to Ganesha.

A mother bathes her children at a pump outside the confines of the village, right on the main thoroughfare to the Southern Group of temples.

         We finished visiting the temples and I was starving, so my driver brought me to the Siddarth restaurant: excellent foot at astonishingly reasonable prices in an indifferent decor. I paid 750 rs. for more food than I should have eaten, which I have a tendency to do in Indian restaurants in the U.S. It was no different here, except that every restaurant is an Indian restaurant!
After  lunch he took me to his factory outlet for souvenirs. He had warned me not to buy anything at the shops, since the prices at his outlet were the lowest around. Of course, the erotic statues came in all sizes, from two inches to waist high. I loved seeing the same once-esoteric motifs repeated industrially scores of times and in different materials, stone and metal. Must be the influence of Andy Worhol. Of course, I photographed them.

But he had his own miniatures, and erotic ones as well, all on paper. Some of the erotic ones were painted on antique documents with maharajah stamps on them, and these were  a bit more expensive: 2200 rs as opposed to 1200 rs for the straight paper ones. This was a third of the price of the private dealer in his home, who was supposedly giving me such a great deal. But I really liked the ones I had bought from him, so there were no regrets.
Now, I'm also fascinated by the vulgar. Earlier in the day as I was getting into the car, an itinerary merchant thrust a keychain into my hand with a stamped metal kama sutra pair that moved back and forth. Crude but funny, and the most un-erotic depiction of sex imaginable. I had rejected them without even asking the price, but now I asked if my outlet dealer had any. He could send for some, and they were 50 rs each, three different  ones. I bought two sets, six of them, plus 6700 rs worth of paintings, four in all. He had them wrapped up in a rigid package that I could slip into my backpack.
Barbara had finished with the  Western group early in the afternoon and was back at the hotel. She had made friends with a young auto-rickshaw driver, whom she considered mentally challenged by very sweet. He ended up parking outside the entrance to the hotel complex to be at our disposal whenever we needed him. We took his auto-rickshaw back into town that evening to see the colorful and touristic dance performance, after which we ate at another restaurant Barbara had discovered earlier in the day, equally good and inexpensive as the one I had eaten lunch in, but friendlier and with a great view of the square from above: the Maharajah. We had to get back to the hotel rather early, since we were schedulled to go on the Panna Park "tiger reserve" tour the next morning at 5 am--the main reason Barbara had agreed to come to Khajuraho.
Our driving supervisor was there before 5am, with his safari 4WD, open in the rear with facing seats. He was wearing his safari outfit, and as usual, had someone else driving. We got there about 5:30, just about sunrise. The entrance fee was 3750 rs per vehicle, and we later learned we had to be out of the park by 9 am (it reopened at 4 pm). There was a small "museum" there, really a group of explanatory panels, that showed a dramatic gorge and pictograph, among other park features. I asked if we would see them both and was assured we would. I also bought a park "map," for 20 rs., really a PR brochure with a very simply drawn diagram of the park. We registered and paid, then crossed a bridge to the rising sun and immediately spotted a wild peacock displaying and dancing. Next we saw some wild boar close to the road, then deer, a passle of langur monkeys, the common gray monkey one sees all around, including on one of the temples. Among them, however, was a rhesus monkey, brownish red  in color and with a shorter tail than the langurs. Next we saw some water buffalo, and soon we were at our rest stop. I took out the lunch the hotel had packed for us, and we were offered a very small  plastic cup of tea masala, which we were later charged 20 rs each for. We were asked if we'd like to take a cruise in the river, and we said yes, until we found out that there was an extra charge of 1000 rs per person. Our driver also offered to take us to see the nearby waterfall, for an additional 500 rs each. We declined all the offers. Then we learned that the tour was over; we would not see the gorge nor the pictographs, and that we had to be out of the park by 9 am, which was in half an hour.
When our guide dropped us back at our hotel, we paid him the 2800 for the transportation, and then he asked for a tip for the driver--and himself! I had thought this smarmy self-promoting character was the tour operator, and now in addition to an overpriced deeply disappointing tour,  he wanted a tip. I gave him 100 rs for the driver, and then turned around and walked away, hoping not to see him again, which I didn't. The whole jaunt had cost us the equivalent of $113, not a huge sum, but we could have saved ourselves the trouble. Trip Advisor will hear about this one.
Back at the hotel I took a nap then had an extremely light lunch of one eggplant, onion and pineapple dish, very tasty, but really only an appetizer, though at the price of a full dinner in the town. But I wanted to cut back. After lunch I took Barbara's favorite driver into town, which was so close I resolved to walk it the next time, and headed straight for the barber. I had passed his little operation under a tree, and I was in desperate need of a haircut. I gave my camera to our driver and showed him where to press. The results weren't bad. The barbar, however, was a barber of genius. I sat in a light-green painted wooden chair and put my stuff on an identical chair next to mine. The barber first cut my hair using only mechanical tools, and the scissor wasn't all that sharp so it pulled a little. But then came his real performance: he treated my scalp to two-handed finger hits that seemed to snap upon impact. Then he massaged it, and his massage extended to my neck and shoulders, down my arms, even to twisting my fingers, then down my back. When he was finished I felt totally renewed. The price: 300 rs, or about $5.17.
I did some additional shopping for tchotchkes, such as a loving embrace letter opener in brass, then took the auto-rickshaw back to the hotel. That night I returned to town on foot at about the time of the sound and light show of the temples, but I never saw it.