A corner for the Sun-god

 

Nothing dominates life on earth and human life as the sun. It’s the source of all energy on earth except for nuclear energy. Our entire life cycle  is conditioned by the sun, the metabolism of plants and animals, every single cell in every living body, the mental outlook, the health matters, and so on. No wonder, the sun occupies pride of place in most cultures and religions. In ancient Egypt, the Sun-god, Re was the highest of gods. Incans worshipped the sun as one of their highest gods. Japanese, Aztec and Indian civilisations followed the same pattern. 

Befitting this primacy was a grand temple, Konark (Kona: corner, Arka: Sun) in Odisha. The temple is now in ruins and only the entrance (Mukhashala) and the base (Upana) of the main temple are extant. Even this small part fills one with a sense of awe at its grandeur, architecture and craftsmanship. The temple was of epic imagination and vastness representing the brightest flicker of the formidable Odisha architectural incandescence. 

Whoever designed the temple must have been an uber genius. As per folklore, his name was Bishu Maharana. He had conceived the temple as a colossal chariot of the Sun-god being pulled by seven horses on 12 pairs of wheels in the sky towards the east. Some people claim that the seven horses represent the seven colours of the rainbow combining to create sunlight; others claim that they represent the seven days of the week. The dozen pairs of wheels represent the 12 months of the year. Each wheel has eight large spokes, each section representing the three-hour time periods of the day (praharas) prevalent in those times for time-measurement. 

The temple was designed in such a way that the first ray of the sun fell on the image of the Sun-god in the sanctum sanctorum. The temple’s façades were broken by five small projections producing the effect of light and shade creating an impression of one continuous line (thus, pancha-ratha-rekha deul). 

On the wheels, there are different personified representations of the Sun-god depending on what time of the day the sun rays fall on them. So, the image on which the morning sun rays fall depicts the God in a calm and exuberant demeanour; the one where the noon/ early afternoon rays fall depicts Him in a powerful demeanour; and so on. 

Legend has it that the temple was built into the sea at the confluence of Chandrabhaga river (a distributary of Kadua river) and the sea so that the waves would wash its feet all the time. The workers used to put the stones and the construction material in the water but the waves used to carry them off. After a lot of trial and error, Bishu Maharana was dejected and went away, not intending to return. On his journey of unpremeditated destination, he stopped at an old woman’s house for a meal – in those days, it was common to ask for food at stranger houses and be fed. The old lady served him hot rice and accompaniments (in some legends, ‘kheer’). Bishu Maharana dipped his hand into the middle of the hot rice mound and his hand got scalded. The old lady, unaware of his identity, laughed at him and exclaimed, “You’re eating your rice just like that Bishu Maharana is constructing the temple.” Hearing this, Bishu perked up his ears and asked what was wrong with the temple construction. The lady told him Bishu was starting the temple from the middle of the water just like he had dipped his hand into the middle of the rice mound. He should start eating from the edges and gradually move towards the centre and similarly Bishu should build from the shore into the sea. This was an epiphanic moment for Bishu. He returned and followed the old lady’s advice and the temple got built. [The sea has now receded and is at a distance from the temple; Chandrabhaga river is extinct.] 

As per the stories, 1,200 craftsmen worked on the temple for 12 years. They were not allowed to leave the site until the construction was completed. However, at the end, there was a glitch. Essentially, the rocks were balancing on top of each other through their sheer weight although they were connected by iron dowels and cramps. The crown which is the most important part of temples in Odisha and which balances the whole structure was not getting fixed properly after several attempts. The king was angry and gave a deadline of 24 hours failing which he would order severe punishment including and up to death. Meanwhile, Bishu Maharana’s son, Dharmapada who was born a few months after Bishu left for the temple site and was now 12 years old came searching for his father whom he had never seen. On hearing about the king’s diktat, Dharmapada climbed to the top of the temple, detected a defect, rectified it and succeeded in fixing the crown. The craftsmen were now petrified that the king would be even angrier because while they had failed, a small boy was able to succeed. In order to save them from the king’s ire, Dharmapada climbed the temple again and committed suicide by jumping into the sea from there. The next day, the king came for consecration of the completed temple. However, on hearing about the small boy and his sacrifice, he was remorseful and cancelled the consecration that day and deferred it. This legend has been immortalised in moving poetry in Odia. 

In 2017, I visited Machu Pichu in Peru. Tens of thousands throng there round the year and are wonderstruck by a city built on top of hills. I was also impressed until the guide said that it was built in the 15^th Century; in fact, I asked her whether 15^th Century AD or BC – turned out, it was 15^th Century, AD.

[Machu Pichu]

To me, it was just a bunch of rough-hewn stones making up tiny houses. There was hardly any architectural or artistic merit. Meanwhile, there was awesome grandeur, unbelievable architecture and unreplicable artistic excellence at Konark where, as Rabindranath Tagore put it, “the language of stone surpasses the language of human.” And it was built in the 13^th Century AD!

[Mukhashala and Upana of Konark main temple. Rest of the main temple no longer exists.]

[With the plasticity of their texture, the elephants look like living, breathing 

beings. There are more than 1,700 elephants carved on the Upana alone.]

[The famous Konark wheel - there're 12 pairs of them, each with a diameter of 9' 9"]

Konark also fills one with a lot of questions and conjectures, adding to its mystique. When a genius conceived such a magnificent structure of truly astounding scientific, architectural and artistic marvels, why couldn’t he fix the crown (if the legends be true)? For the temple, why did he make the mistake of choosing Khondalite rock which is highly susceptible to weathering and proved fatal for the longevity of the monument? The massive rocks used for the temple are not available in the vicinity. How were they transported and set in position in prodigious blocks atop one another up to 200 feet height? What was the significance of the temple’s location when it wasn’t the capital city? The sculpting/ carving was done on the huge stones in situ after they were placed in position to make the temple; they were not sculpted/ carved and then used in construction. One single mistake in one stone in the middle or bottom part would’ve meant constructing the whole temple afresh. How come, the craftsmen had such supreme confidence in their ability to do this? The carvings are of progressively better quality and by more accomplished craftsmen as one goes up and the best quality would’ve been at the top. The temple being so tall, who would’ve seen the upper carvings and why were the carvings continued right up to the top? What was the significance of all the eroticisms on the walls? Why was the Sun-god image removed to Jagannath temple in Puri? 

The lines from Rig Veda:

Ah, those 90 hours!

 

First came the 70-hour work-week prescription from a fossilised has-been called Narayana Murthy. Initially, I thought it was just a senile man seeking relevance and validation in his golden years but later, someone pointed out that his sound-off was actually a carefully calibrated one to cadge the post of President of India as and when it falls vacant. So I dismissed it as just a job application. 

Then came our Let’s Tango L&T chap with his higher-dosage prescription of 90 hours. Not only that; he railed against excessive staring at the wife. Faced with a barrage of memes and criticisms, he doubled down, saying this was all for nation building. 

Well, in India, there actually is one agency for most of whose members 90-hour work weeks are the norm rather than the exception. Even though it is a government agency, in its case, the Government of India violates all the norms and conventions of International Labour Organisation and other multilateral agencies it is a signatory to. That is the Police. 

The personnel at the Police Station work 24 X 7 because crime and law and order incidents do not follow the calendar or office hours. In fact, most of the work happens in the night. They do not have any government holidays; actually, on most of the government holidays like festivals, Republic Day, Independence Day, Polling Day and so on, they have extra-onerous duties. There is no concept of weekend. Reasons for this are many – very low police/population ratio, organisational ethos of the Police, high incidence of crime and disorder and so on. One DGP of a particular state introduced a one-day off per week and that became a huge talking point. In essence, the Police Station personnel in India lead a very abnormal life. This applies to senior officers too. 

Like any other IPS officer during the field posting period, I was also lurching from hectic assignment to hectic assignment for 14 long years until I completed my SPship of a district. During that tenure, one Dy SP from a different district lobbied hard and got posted in the District Intelligence Branch (DIB) of my district. I was really intrigued because the Dy SP had a tremendous reputation as an ace investigator and DIB posting is considered peripheral and very unimportant. I asked him how come, when he was such a good officer and when we used to consult him for important/ complicated cases. His reply, roughly translated into English: 

“Sir, just like you’re praising me, many senior officers have seen fit to bestow encomiums in the past. I was also puffed up and put in my level best throughout my career, not bothering about anything except my job – family, other interests, and so on. Most of the time, I’ve stayed away from my family. But, what has been the point of it all?! My only child (a son) has turned into a drug addict. I have just three years of service left. I’ve tried for a lighter posting in my home district so that I’ll try to return him to mainstream …” 

That night, I thought long and hard about what the Dy SP said. My situation was not much different, although I was younger than him. By then, I’d put in 14 years on that treadmill. My children were growing up in a practically one-parent household. My own psyche was taking a hit. Although I liked to write, I couldn’t remember when I’d last written anything other than an official letter or some personal correspondence. Getting together with people other than service colleagues was a distant memory. Pursuing any hobby had been out of the question. I decided to opt for assignments where at least I could segregate office and personal time. And went on a deputation, against the will of the highest levels in the state government. Now, even though working hours were still long, when I went home, I could at least leave the office behind. 

I need not tell you about the staring bit. However, I did manage to spend quality time with the kids in their formative years. They went on to do well in their careers and vocations. When my son, armed with a 99 percentile score in GRE, was applying for US universities and was having some problems arranging the recommendation letters from his teachers, I offered to request my PhD guide at IIT, Delhi for the same. He refused, saying that would be unethical. I was extremely proud of him.

90-hour work week? BULLSHIT! I have lived through it for 14 years. It sucks.