Sculptured symphonies

There is something haunting and unforgettable about these old ruins. Neither time nor iconoclasts have been able to completely erase either the delicacy of style or the music trapped in the old Hoysala architecture. James Fergusson says these old ruins "far surpass anything in Gothic art", opines Rani Sircar

BELUR and Halebid were both, in that order, the capital of the Hoysala kingdom which extended over what, much later, was the domain of the Maharajah of Mysore. Today, both cities are deserted, except for villagers from the countryside and temple-gazers like myself, marvelling at the remarkable examples of the stone-carvers’ art on view in the Chennakesava and Veeranarayana temples at Belur and in the Hoysalasvara and other temples in Halebid. Built in the style evolved in the mighty Chalukya empire in western India, the temples are among the most beautiful in this country. Although only architecture and sculpture survive today, it was not difficult for me to visualise the temples alive with worshippers and song and dance.

I wondered that they all bore depictions of a man killing a tiger until I learnt that this was the Hoysala emblem. For according to 11th century inscriptions, an ascetic in his cave in the hills around today’s town of Hassan, was attacked by a tiger. In terror he cried out "Hoy Sala!", which means "Strike, Sala!" Whereupon a passing tribesman called Sala fell upon the tiger and killed it. Hence the Hoysala emblem. For, afterwards the tribesman called himself Hoysala and founded the dynasty that was to be immortalised through its virtuosity in temple building.

According to tradition still current in Karnataka, the brilliant and inspired Jakanachari was responsible for the sculpture in the Belur, Halebid and other temples built during the reign of the Hoysala king Vishnuvardhana in the 12th century A.D.. Halebid in the days of its glory was known as Dwara Samudram meaning "Gateway to the seas". And when Vishnuvardhana moved his capital from Belur to Dwara Samudram, work began on the Haysaleswara temple in 1200 A.D. It was never completed. But even in its unfinished condition, it compares most favourably with the best temples in India, and is one of the finest examples of Chalukyan architecture.

In 1310 when Vir Ballala III (1294-1342) was king in Dwara Samudram, the army of Allaudin Khilji under his General Malik Kafur swept through the city, ransacking, pillaging and destroying in the name of Allah, and for the glory of Sultan Allaudin. In 1326, what was left of Dwara Samudram was again overrun. This time by the army of Mohammed-bin-Tughlak. The Hoysala capital was left as we see it today — a mass of rubble and old ruins. Indeed, its present name Halebid, is from hale-bidu which in Kannada, the language of the region, means literally, old ruins!

There is something haunting and unforgettable about these old ruins; and neither time nor the iconoclasts have been able to completely erase either the delicacy of style or the music trapped in the old Hoysala architecture. It was with a certain melancholy that I turned away from these old ruins which according to the archaeologist James Fergusson, "far surpass anything in Gothic art". And Fergusson should know.

Intent on destroying the contemporaneous Hoysala capital of Dwara Samudram, both sets of Islamic conquerors overlooked the former capital of the Hoysala, Belur. On the banks of the river Yagachi, Belur has been subjected only to the ravages of time. Both the Veeranarayana and Chennakesava temples here are examples of elegant and exquisite architecture. It was fortunate that I saw the Veeranarayana temple first. It prepared me for the unique experience of the other temple.

In the courtyards of the Veeranarayana temple, there are small shrines in memory of South Indian mystics and poets and singers such as Kappe, Chennigaraya, Soumiyanayaki and Andal. Inside, the numerous figures of gods and goddesses are beautifully sculpted. Overall, there is an overwhelming sense of space and peace.

The Chennakesava temple was built to celebrate the victory of the Hoysala king Vishnuvardhana over the Cholas in the fierce and decisive battle of Talakad. Work on the temple commenced in 1116 A.D. Star-shaped and on a raised platform, it has three great doorways facing east, north and south. Much of the stonework here is in black. Indeed, the Chennakesava temple is one of the greatest medieval monuments of art in India. It is remarkable indeed that the cathedrals of Lincoln, Wells, Amiens, Rheims and Chartres — all medieval European masterpieces — were built at the same time as this temple!

The abundance of carvings on the outer walls rise one above the other in well-defined horizontal lines. Prominent among these carvings are the hundreds of images of Santala, who is supposed to have been an extraordinarily beautiful court dancer. Her images range from about eight inches to life-size in height, and are all in the numerous poses of the classical Bharat Natyam dance. Such was the genius of Jakanachari that according to your angle of vision and how the light is falling, it often seems that the figure of Santala is actually alive and dancing!

Again, as at the Veeranarayana temple, I was filled with a sense of space and lightness. And a sense of wonder. For how can stone convey such an impression of being airy and gossamer-like? How can stone evoke a response similar to our response to music?