TANTALISING TANJORE (1993)

These are my first observations about the city when I visited it in 1993 which was also my first visit to Melattur. There were so many changes from my childhood visits when I remember roads being less crowded.

What does the name Tanjore mean to you? Glass paintings? Gem-studded icons of a wide-eyed Krishna? Carved metal plates. The Big temple. Bharata Natyam. Yes, Tanjore is all this and much more. The city is traditional home of music and   musical instruments. Tanjore clay dolls, handloom silk, superb pith artefacts, and exotic garlands made of spices are other popular cottage industries found here.

A historical capital of many dynasties, it reached its pinnacle of glory during the tenth century when the Chola kings ruled here for three hundred years. Raja Raja Chola encouraged arts like sculpture and painting. The city resounded with tinkling bells and melodious notes of dancers and musicians. Scholars from distant lands came here seeking prosperity and fame.

The bustling city is today overcrowded with bicycles and three-wheelers, auto -rickshaws which weave in and out of the main streets. Add to this the super-efficient bus transport system which ensures a bus-a-minute to take you to anywhere within the state.  The best way to absorb the real flavour of the quaint town is to take the cycle rickshaw and go for a leisurely drive through narrow winding streets in the interiors. In fact, the pace is so slow and the streets so narrow you can window-shop from your perch on the rick. Your nostrils are assailed with the fragrance of pure distilled filter-coffee wafting from little wayside tiffin-rooms. You can hear the sizzle as the dosa crisps on the steaming griddle. The goldsmiths tinker away, fashioning exquisite gem-studded jewellery; craftsmen skilfully carve out the dome of a Tanjore veena; the tap-tap of a dance master’s thattukazhi (baton) floats down from one open window, fragments of music from another. As evening nears, the rich sound of a nadaswaram mingles with temple bells. It is aarati time in the hundreds of temple and shrines that greet you at every corner.

The men and women of these parts are old fashioned in dress and lifestyle-an anachronism in the electronic age. Their eyes are bright though and never seem to let you forget that it is for nothing that they enjoy the legendary reputation of being the home of the most intellectual brains in the country.

You need an entire morning to take in the magnificent Brihadeeswara temple- a marvel of 10^th century Chola architecture. A 200 feet high gopuram is crowned with a cupola weighing 80 tons. The shadow of the gopuram never falls on the ground at any time of the day. The tower is intricately carved with figures of gods, goddesses, dancers, kings and warriors. A world heritage monument, protected by the UNESCO, the temple is well preserved. Take a walk around the vast precincts early in the morning before the sun heats up the flagstones on the ground. You cannot wear footwear inside. Pointing to visitors who were prancing around on one foot unable to bear the blistering heat of the stones under the blazing noon sun, our guide Raja quipped, “Ah, madam! Everyone who visits Tanjore must learn Bharata Natyam or do the Tanjore Tango”. An enormous Nandi, the Bull, strikes a majestic pose guarding the entrance to the shrine.

The royal Durbar Hall outside the palace lies in magnificent ruins. There is an eerie atmosphere and as you take in the crumbling frescoes and tarnished canopy you can conjure up the glorious scenes of the Maratha Emperors in the silken regalia.

The Saraswati Mahal Library next door houses around 44000 ancient manuscripts on palm leaf and paper, written in several languages and antiquated scripts. An art gallery displays the best of Chola bronzes and stone sculptures.

A Danish missionary Rev. Father Schwartz spent several years of his life here as tutor to the King Sarabhoji. A church built in his honour in 1779 stands as an impressive evidence of the catholicity of his royal student.

An ideal time to visit Tanjore is December through March, the coolest months when the brimming Kaveri flows like a strand of silver ore. If it is January it must be Thiruvaiyaru. Join the multitudes which gather to sing at the shrine of Sadguru Tyagaraja on the occasion of his Aradhana. But you have braved the heat and do land up here in May, do not miss the marvellous performance of Bhagavata Mela natakams in Melattur, a village about sixteen kilometres away. These dance-dramas are part of the annual worship at the local temple. a 500-year old tradition, all the actors are male Brahmin priests who tell stories from Indian mythology.

The school geography books call Tanjore the rice-bowl of India. But this one city offers Indian history in a capsule. Every culture has left a stamp. Chola art, the Devadasi community, who alone have nurtured Bharata Natyam through the ages, Tamil, Marathi and Telugu literature; church steeples, masjid minarets and temple towers which rise together into the skyline. What kind of stamp will our electronic age leave behind on Tanjore?