Belur

We drove along for sometime, bathing in the sweet memories of Halebeedu till the Belur Channakeshava temple brought us to firm footing again. From the outside, it looked forlorn and dilapidated. Inside, it is immortal. The skies had started pouring and we rushed into the sanctum sanctorum filled with darkness owing to a power failure. There stood the lord, his form illuminated from a solitary oil lamp, in all splendor, tall and dark and handsome (which is precisely why he is called "Channa-Keshava"). A sight to behold indeed!

The sculptures here are second to none. Pillars with confounding carvings of Gods and Goddesses were not new to me anymore. What surprised me was a vacant area, very much the size of a human palm, on one of the pillars. I learned from someone there that the spot was deliberately left vacant by the sculptor, "Amara Shilpi Jakanachari", who openly challenged anyone to come forward and fill that spot with anything that he had failed to carve. History also quotes that the sculptor carved all this with only his left hand, for he cut his right hand after losing a bet to his son, "Dankanachari". To be skeptical is easy, but what is more important is appreciation for immortal art.Outside the sannidhi, in the temple premises, is a thirty-foot pier that stands without a foundation. More breathtaking is the fact that the pier rests only on three points. Slide a handkerchief from one side in the gap between the foot of the pier and the ground, and one could easily pull it out from the opposite side. Heavy rain prevented me from getting a good photograph of the column, but it is well imprinted within me.

We ran out of the temple and jumped into our seats in the bus, puffing and panting. The rain was hitting the ground hard. We stopped for coffee and finally started towards our next destination - Dharmastala. All through the bumpy ride, I was only thinking if the Gods looked any better than how they had been depicted on stone at Belur and Halebeedu. Such was the art!