Friday, November 10 Pipli, Konark, Puri in Orissa

I woke up and it was raining. Great. But the weather here besides that is superb-75 in the morning, afternoon, and at night. Actually the weather said it was a high of 18 and a low of 17. I checked out and then walked around Bhubaneswar looking for breakfast, but the only thing open were little bamboo shacks with watery rice, a popular Odissi breakfast. For the second day in a row, I went to the Orissa Tourism Department Lodge and hopped on the 9:00 bus for more sightseeing. A man and his son my age were on both tours with me. I know they are Muslim because they didn’t go inside any Hindu temples, they speak Urdu, and their last name is Khan. The son said he’s majoring in English, but the Dad had to translate. The first stop was Pipli, a crafts centre famous for those useless hanging colorful mirror lanterns. I walked down a little side-street, and it was as if I had regressed 500 years. Coconut palms towered over small one-room mud, brick, and bamboo huts. Villagers were washing their clothes and bodies in a pond surrounded by rice paddies. Men wore cloth sarongs, and women wore saris. Everyone smiled as I passed by. The climate is wet, humid, and coastal, with tons of rural paddies, rivers, and lakes everywhere. It’s what I imagine Kerala looking like, on the southern tip of India. That there is no industry or major cities here does not change the fact that there are people everywhere; in every nook and cranny of Orissa. It’s really interesting and pretty driving through all these unspoilt (besides powerlines, paved roads, and Pepsi signs) little villages, paddies, and estuaries. Our next stop was Konark, home of the famous Sun Temple, a UNESCO World Heritage site. I managed to sneak in for the Indian price by being absolutely mute. The temple was amazing. Built in the 13th century, it was a victory monument signaling the defeat of the Muslims. Since then it has been destroyed by the Mughals and Portuguese. It was built as a chariot for the sun god Surya. The distinctive feature is the 24 stone cartwheels, representing hours of the day. They are all intricately-embellished with swirl patterns, wood-like designs, checkers, and mini-kama sutras. The temple has seven horses, representing the days of the week. It was just like Khajuraho, but bigger. On the lower levels, it was mostly men and women being wrapped up by snakes, musicians with drums, and gods. The upper levels around the spire were mostly erotic scenes, and really graphic, too, with all sorts of different kama sutra positions, multiple female partners, touching and holding things. The temple was guarded by stone lions (a Hindu symbol of power) atop elephants (a Buddhist symbol of wealth). Because Orissa is situated west of Bengal, east of the Deccan Plateau, south of the Gangetic North Indian heartland, and north of the Dravidian south, it reflects the influences and converging of all of these artistic, religious, linguistic, and social aspects. We stopped for a couple of minutes at a sparse but vast beach in Konark. Vendors selling souvenirs, film, snacks, and coconuts lined the sand. Small blue-gray waves crashed into the off-white sand. I dipped my feet into the water, the first time I have touched the waters of the Bay of Bengal (surrounded by India to the West, Bangladesh to the north, Myanmar to the east, and connects to the vast Indian Ocean in the south. The sand was fine-grained and the water was even warmer than the humid tropical air. We set off for the last (but definitely not least) stop on Orissa’s Golden Triangle circuit, Puri. The holy Hindu city of Puri attracts Indian tourists, foreigners for the beach, and Hindu pilgrims for its temples. The bus let us off at Rath Yatra Road, a huge boulevard that leads to the famous Jagganath Temple. This road is huge for one purpose and one purpose only; the Rath Yatra festival in June. The street is completely packed, and people carry huge floats of Lord Jagganath, his brother, and his sister, through the street from the Jagganath Temple to the Gundicha Mandir. Only Hindus are allowed into the temples (just recently open to women) because it was kept a secret and strictly controlled when the Muslims ruled the area and outlawed idol worship. So basically the rule is in place to keep out Muslims. You could easily change the previous sentence to be about airline security or Israel. Actually, though, the Jagganath Temple is open to Jains, Buddhists, and Sikhs. So I claimed I am a Buddhist. I have been saying this ever since I got to India because 1) I agree with many of the Buddha’s teachings, 2) I look like an Asian Buddhist, 3) I don’t like associating myself with the Christian world because of problems with Muslims and their missionary practices like the Australian missionaries burned in Orissa, 4) It’s an Indian religion closely related to Jainism, and derived in whole from Hinduism, 5) No one hates Buddhists. However, the security guards all said “Indian Buddhists only”. This makes absolutely no sense. Basically this temple is sexist, prejudice against other beliefs, and racist. Reason # 300 I’m not a Hindu. I wasn’t about to argue with the security guard with an assault rifle, so instead I paced around and watched the scene at the front gate. It was crazy and hectic. Hindus were everywhere. Women lined the street, selling prasad (rice, coconuts, milk, and incense), souvenirs (figurines of Lord Jagganath, who is a bug-eyed black or white short stubby figure, who would make a really good stereotypical Indian character in South Park), vegetarian food, and clothes. Men jostled for rickshaw passengers, tourists wanting souvenirs, and for people to give them money for begging. I had amassed a nice little crowd of hawkers around me as I was photographing beggars, lepers, street scenes, and devotees washing their mouths before worship. I walked back to the bus and talked to the driver, who was from Cuttack, Orissa’s previous capital 100 km up the road. I felt like we were both guys in prison, or black Americans during segregation, because he wasn’t allowed in the temple, either, since he’s a Muslim. Te told me a secret; he, along with a lot of other people in India (including Hindus) eat beef, they just buy it from Muslims and eat it in secret. Not hard to believe, because of how many cows there are here, or considering how good a nice, tender, juicy steak tastes. The last stop on the tour was the Puri Beach (aka the Orissa Tourism resort). I put my luggage at the desk and took a walk down the beach. The water was really warm and felt nice, as did the cushy gray sand. Puri Beach stretched for as far as the eye could see, as did the people. The beach in Puri is sacred, and the Jagganath Temple is a mere 500 meters away. In every Hindu holy city there is always a body of water. In Varanasi and Allahabad there is a river, in Bhubaneswar there is a tank, in Gangotri there is a glacial waterfall, in Pushkar there is a lake, and in Puri and Kanniyakumari there is an ocean. So far, Puri is my favorite Hindu holy place. I only saw three non-Indians. One was a white guy in a cotton lungi, head shaved, and had his forehead painted with a ‘V’, indicating he’s a Vaishnavite. Poser. The others were weird German people in dreadlocks and Punjabi suits. The beach went on for miles, and got more and more crowded near the Jagganath Temple. Vendors sold balloons, pearl necklaces, cotton candy, and horse/camel rides. It was mostly Indian families and boys playing in the water. I kept trying to take pictures, but naked guys kept obscuring the otherwise awesome view of the Bay of Bengal. Fishermen were hammering away fixing their boats and re-stringing their nets after the day at sea. Processions of holy people banging drums and carrying long sticks made their way up and down the beach. I walked up to the Jagganath Temple. The road was teeming with pilgrims and holiday-goers, eating and shopping. In order for foreigners to see the temple, you have to go across the street to the library and give a “donation” of 100 Rs. I climbed to the top, where the view was decent, but made extraordinary as a result of the beautiful pink-blue-orange sunset behind the huge towering temple. Like every other Hindu temple, it had a series of towers, each devoted to a certain Hindu deity, the central and largest being Lord Jagganath. After that I walked back to the hotel along the dark beach, and caught the overnight sleeper train to Howrah Station in Kolkata.