Overwhelming Temples and Pagent Queen Rickshaw Rides

We started the back end of our trip with a six hour drive back south to near the bottom of the state of Tamilnadu. Since there wasn't a bunch of time to explore much after spending the majority of the day driving, we only saw one place of interest on our travels. We visited the Mahatma Gandhi Museum.

Mahatma Gandhi was a national hero that spent most of his life campaigning for the unity and freedom of all the peoples of India. He devised different campaigns, urged non-violence, self-suffiency, preached the value of living in harmony with your neighbors, and stood as the figurehead of a country's struggle for true independence. After a lifetime of devotion to his cause, Gandhi was able to see the fruition of his life's effort with the Independence of India in 1948. 

The museum, whose grounds also support a learning center and replica of Gandhi's modest home, was very different than I expected. While the museum contained a well put together exhibit on the history of India through the ages and its strife and turmoil while under the "oppressive rule" of the Dutch East India Trading Company and later the British, the author of the displays was clearly biased and had no love for the former sovereigns of their home country. All of the placard portrayed the "White Man" as ruthless killers willing to do everything to keep themselves in power and the locals as poor dependent slaves. I'm pretty sure that all lot of what happened was as the author stated and that there were many things wrong with India being essentially indentured to more powerful countries, but in a museum that is dedicated to a man that spent a lifetime extolling the virtues of peace and brotherly love, I thought the hatred I sensed in the worlds on the walls was a bit much.

After our brief respite, we continued on to Madurai,  our home for the next two nights. 

Our fist stop for our day of sight-seeing in town was Thirumalai Nayakkar Mahal. This Palace was built in 1636 AD by King Thirumakai Nayak. Originally there were two main sections to the palace, but only one section still remains. It is believed that the King's grandson, Chockanatha Nayak, demolished part of the palace and took it to Trichirappalli. What remains of the Palace gives a view of beautiful Indosaracenic architecture, marrying Indian and Chinese iconology. There are many lions all throughout the halls that bare striking resemblance to Chinese dragon iconography. In addition to the lion carvings, the ceilings contained beautiful floral and geometric frescos. In the back room off the main audience hall of the palace was a small museum that housed found that we're discovered when the Palace was built.

From the Nayak's Palace we took a short ride over the water way to visit the Meenakshi Amman Temple. The temple was believed to have been founded by the King of the Deva celestial deities, Indra, who was on a pilgrimage to atone for his misdeeds. The temple is dedicated to Parvati, also known as Meenakshi, and her husband, Shiva. The complex is one of the largest in the state and is constructed of a series of concentric quadrangles, one within the next. The city surrounding the temple spreads out around it in ever-widening squares, giving the appearance of a lotus flower from above; a symbol very prevalent in Hindu culture.

Meekakshi Amman Temple is in and of itself a mini city of sorts. Five generations of royal families all called this theirs and all tried to outdo their fore bearers. There are four entrances and five main temples (all in the pyramidal style and each his her and more intricate than the previous one(s). In addition to the five main temple towers, there are an additional nine that adorn the grounds. The entire place is riot of colors and a treasure trove of carvings. Each of the towers is completely covered in statues of gods and goddesses; there is even a museum called the Museum of a Thousand Pillars, which indeed contains a thousand carved pillars; there are multiple Hindu temples dedicated to different aspects and incarnations of the three main gods and their wives; and everywhere, people - tourists, locals, parishioners, touts. The place is amazing and overwhelming in equal measure. In the center of all this chaos, is serene pool, surrounded by a courtyard and five towers, but if you sit on the steps of the pool and stare out ahead, everyone else falls away.

The highlight of our stay in Madurai (and a strong contender for best moment of the trip) was a manual rickshaw tour of Madurai city. When our driver beckoned us to hop into his cart I had a moment where I looked at him and felt I should be switching places. Our driver was an older, weather worn gentalman, with spindly legs and not an ounce of fat on his bones. I felt like his having to pedal Em and me on his bike might break him, but he proved to be made of stouter stuff than I gave him credit for. 

The rickshaw tour started by taking us down the main thoroughfare past the row of government hospitals and their unfortunates outside and then turned down into thinner workings of the city. Behind the crazy traffic and smog of the main highway were the littler roads, lined with the homes of the average person, where. Western tourists don't grace these streets often and the residents were excited at the change in their daily routine. 

We happened to have our excursion just when the children were being let out of school and returning home. As a result, we were greeted with shy smiles, laughing faces, and tons of waving as the children wandered by shouting "Hi" and "Bye." even many of the parents and older folks sitting on their front stoops were enthusiastically waving and smiling as we rode by. I felt like a pageant queen in the midst of a parade as it rides through a crowd of adoring fans. It was an odd and self conscience feeling at first, but the youthful enthusiasm of the children and their infectious joy soon had me waving at everyone we passed and laughing when some people responded with hesitant waves, as if unsure why this crazy white girl was waving at them, and others ran alongside our bike eager to yell hello or shake hands. I think this ride would melt the hearts of even the toughest of men.

Along the journey, we stopped to visit a towel making factory, a copper pot maker, and a weaver. All three "factories" we're single room dwellings that either employed a dozen workers (in the cases of the weavers and the towel markers) or were staffed by a family (in the case of the pot maker). The art of hand creating is dying as large manufacture plants take over the jobs, but here, in these small town, the tradition lives on and when we later drove by the shops in town and saw the finished products, we gaped in awe at how polished and perfect they all looked; you'd have thought they were created by a machine.