Saturday, 5 February 2011

Halebeedu

The Hoysaleswara Temple

The bus from Belur to Halebeedu goes along a quiet country road with the minimum of potholes, shaded by avenues of trees. Halebeedu, or Halebid, once the capital of the Hoysala empire, is bucolic in the extreme: a small country town by a lake, which provides water for fields of maise, potatoes, cabbages, forests of coconut palms, date palms and all kinds of other trees. Buffalo laze in the fields, children play by their mud brick houses and all around there are these wonderful temples. The main temple, created by Ketamalla, commander of King Vishnuvardhana in 1121AD, is a great, grey stone structure, intricately carved. On the outside of the temple there are carvings of every kind of sexual practice, dancing girls, musicians, horsemen, hippos, mythical beasts, elephants, warriors with round, ear-expanding earrings, some finely carved, some unfinished. The other side of the temple is decorated with very fine carvings of Hindu gods. The roof of the temple is crenelated, which might have looked different when the towers were still on the temple, but now this gives the temple a spiky, defensive look. Every inch of the temple walls is intricately carved. Behind this temple there is another unfinished temple. Lawns and trees surround the whole complex, which overlooks a lake. Someone in their infinite wisdom has seen fit to burn a pile of rubbish today, so smoke drifts across the lawns.

Parshvanatha and Shantimatha Basadis

I walked from the main temple down the road to these other temples. Parshvanatha basadi (temple) was built by Boppadeva, son of Gangaraja, a Hoysala minister, in 1133 AD. Shantinatha basadi was built in 1196. Both of these temples are unfinished but set in a walled enclosure with lawns and palm trees. Shantinatha basadi has a magnificent Jain statue of a naked standing man, whose extremely slender waist suggests that he might be of indeterminate sex.

Kahareshwara

I walked on another kilometre through lush farmland to this temple, similarly carved and sculpted, surrounded by lawns and palm trees, with the mountains in the distance.

Hulikere Tank

I had a ride in a very full rikshaw, perched on the side of the driver's seat, hanging on for dear life, to Hulikere, where a gang of children asked for pens, but settled for having their photo taken instead. They begged me to photograph the fish in the tank, but the photo didn't come out, as I had expected.

I am planning a return trip by train via Mangalore. I don't think I can face that bus trip over that terrible road again.




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