The same awful nadaswaram cacophony was wailing away in the lobby this morning. And in the dining room, the same lip-smacking breakfast buffet. Today’s morning plan was to go to the Saraswathi Mahal complex and look around there. I had gone there on my last visit a few years back, but it’s always nice to visit again, to compare impressions, to consolidate memories, to see things afresh.
Changes have been made at Saraswathi Mahal. The last time we were there, the museum was in a room to the right as soon as you entered the verandah. There was a beautiful picture - of Saraswathi, if memory serves me right - in the front; that area has now been made into a spanking new, teeth-chatteringly cold air conditioned theatre where we watched a heavily photoshopped (where was the traffic? the crowds? the noisy chaos?) movie on Thanjavur, its history and environs. There was a lot of aerial photography (one way to not show all those pesky people and vehicles) and commentary made in portentous tones. Quite well done.
The museum is now in a room past the theatre. Inside, the same collection of objects. And by a column, a leaking AC dripping water into a bucket - rather disturbing in a place with so many precious treasures. I wish there were better signs for the objects than : Oldest Palm Leaf Manuscript in Tamil; Kamba Ramayana; etc. Almost no dates and absolutely no context.
We moved on to the Thanjavur art gallery within the same grounds and saw some spectacular stone and bronze sculptures. Again, quite un-inspiringly displayed. I saw the foursome - Shiva and Parvathi as a wedding couple with Vishnu as their priest and Lakshmi as sakhi (friend). Got to see it from behind, too! This is the one Vidya Dehejia describes in her talk and it was a real thrill to see it in person. There was a room filled with beautiful Natarajas. I wish these were all better displayed.
Then, on to the Durbar Hall which we saw last time and which looks a bit shabbier now. The whole hall is encased in a cage like structure giving it an imprisoned look. Was appalled to see how many people had etched their names onto the coloured pillars. For shame!
Had some coffee from the little shop near the art gallery and stopped for a short while in some handicrafts stores just outside the complex. Picked up a small lamp which the shopkeeper claimed was 75 years old and which I thought was lovely. He asked for Rs 1500 which I brought down to Rs 1250 with very little effort. Clearly I could have brought the price down further. I hope I still like it when I get back home!
Back to Gnanam in 3 autos for lunch. A big dressing up session planned by everyone for our evening visit to the - Prince? Raja? One Bhonsle, a descendent of the Maratha kings, who lives within the complex.
We were to meet, all dressed, in the lobby at 4.30 for our rendezvous with the princely descendent. Saskia has made all arrangements - her book, Nithyasumangali, is well respected and opens doors, deservedly.
Sumati is transformed into a lovely traditional Tamil beauty with her sari, kajal, jasmine flowers and jewellery and the guys look super spiffy too. I look like an overinflated Maami in Mummy’s lovely (but puffy) cotton sari. Saskia comes down in a dressy pattu sari, looking furious and flustered. I have not seen her like this. Apparently Julie and Bianca, who were supposed to come to her room at 4 so that she could help them with their saris, arrived late, hair uncombed, no jewellery, and kept messing up their saris. We couldn’t be late for Mr. Bhonsle, she had a lot to juggle, she had worked hard to arrange this meeting, and these silly girls just added more problems for her. Anyway, they showed up a short while later looking lovely even if their saris were a bit misaligned. A few tugs here and there sorted that out and we set out in a convoy of 3 autos.
It was 4.40 and the streets were the worst I had seen. Must be Thanjavur’s peak rush hour. The inevitable happened. A car scraped into our auto and compounded error with folly by attempting to continue to move forward. Mercifully the shouting match and traffic stand-still that ensued were short and we carried forward. Arrived at the palace ticket office where we had been, looking quite different, just a few hours earlier. A few minutes later the prince’s secretary (?) , a Mr. Swaminathan, arrived and took us through a short labyrinth of paths and corridors to his home (I assume that this is where he lives, with his family).
Chappals out, we entered a large, simply furnished room and he was there waiting for us. Quite tall, slightly stooped, slim, in his early to mid fifties maybe, with a thick crop of almost all black hair. He was dressed simply in a spotless white shirt and veshti. I was prepared to judge him harshly but was very pleasantly surprised. He was warm, courteous, gentle and very hospitable. I had expected arrogance, diffidence and impatience, but he sat down with us and gave us his full attention. He had a soft-spoken charm that I found quite endearing. He was nursing a bad cold but he had to hold court, literally.
After some preliminaries he invited us upstairs. Through a few short passages, up a flight of steps, past a small rooftop terrace, into a large room which I guess is his drawing room, a modern day Durbar Hall.
It was a lovely room. Heavy wooden beams on the ceiling, painted a shiny brown. Wooden pillars. Four of them adorned with zari-edged white curtains that were tied back with tinselly ribbons so that the effect was one of being in a giant four poster bed. Solid, elegant wood furniture, a lot like what is in Darpana (my parents' home). There were chairs (wood with woven plastic seats) arranged in a wide U. Along the walls were some beautiful Tanjore paintings and portraits of some of the Maratha kings. A few small pictures that I couldn’t see clearly as I didn’t want to stare. A centre table with a book on south Indian paintings by Dellapiccola. The floor was of a dull red tile with black patterns. The room was gently lit with four lights encased in tulip-shaped shades at each corner of the wooden posts. I’m sure some of the furniture and paintings were very valuable, but the effect was of a simple grace and elegance, not a loud in-your-face opulence.
Mr. Swaminathan bustled about bringing us water and hot, sweet tea. People dropped in. Mr. Bhonsle’s phone rang frequently. He handled it all with smiling politeness. One chappie was the head of the INTACH chapter in Thanjavur and was interested in heritage and conservation. He was accompanied by an Iyer-naamamed friend. Another chappie with a grey beard and a freshly applied Iyer naamam also walked in. He was introduced to us as a person who looked after several of Samarth Rama Das’s Muths. The name rang a bell: Davesh Soneji mentioned Samarth Rama Das (I’m quite certain) in his talk about how Carnatic and south Indian musical traditions were influenced by Maratha culture and traditions. I have that paper somewhere - I should read it again having been here and seen all this. I love how a seed planted in one time and place comes alive in an entirely different time and place!
Bhonsle gave Saskia almost all his attention while the other visitors just sat around. I understood that his family (he?) is the custodian of the Brihadeeshwara Temple just as the descendents of the Travancore royal family are the caretakers of the Padmanabhaswamy Temple in Trivandrum. I don’t know what the division of responsibilities/territory is between the family and the Archaeological Survey of India, but Bhonsle can certainly open doors. Saskia was keen to dance in the temple and he has promised to do what he can. We can certainly dance in front of the Thyagaraja idol (whom a Rajaraja idol faces); if he is able to procure the key, we can have a private mandapam (the Nataraja??) to ourselves. Saskia asked if we could see the murals inside the vimana but apparently that takes asking permission and other procedures which could take a few days so that might not happen.
I’m not sure if this Bhonsle works but he is certainly very deeply interested in his heritage and Saskia said that his wife is also very lovely and very well informed about and engaged in heritage work.
Apparently there was an festival at a temple (Karuna Swamy) nearby (I should check; I think he mentioned it was a Chola era temple??) in which the utsava murthys or processional idols would be taken out. It would be at oh....5.30? No, 6. 6.30 Sir, said Mr. Swaminathan. Mr Bhonsle would be there as well. In the meantime we could look at his family’s personal shrine right next door. More arrangements were made. Tomorrow we are to meet a Mr. Herambanathan (he’s a dance teacher) who lives near a Konganeshwara Temple that’s close to where the Brihadeeshwara temple chariot is parked. He is asked to do something for us. More calls. Saskia wants us to see the 108 karanas that are carved into the inner walls of the vimanam (the structure that rises above the sanctum sanctorum), an area that is off-limits to the general public but, with some strategic oiling of the bureaucratic wheels, can be made accessible. Here Bhonsle is circumspect: he can make the request for permission, but that can take several days to be granted. He hopes we can go in, but he wishes we had more time, that he isn’t certain he can do it overnight.
It’s all rather strange but quite interesting. Nobody seemed to want to speak out - perhaps there was a protocol? There is absolutely no sparkling conversation, witty repartee. There are little silences. People seem happy to just sit there in that room and be in Bhonsle’s presence (and maybe ours too?) He seemed to be very good at gleaning what people want and are hesitant to ask for directly. He talked about things he knew about; he made phone calls to people he felt might know what he didn’t.
Swaminathan came in to say that the utsavam procession would likely begin only at 7.30. Bhonsle urged us again to for it, that we’d enjoy it. There is to be a Bharata Natyam performance that we should watch.
Then the lights go off. Swaminathan is summoned to put on a switch that turns on a single, bright light. We got up to leave. Guided by the light of Swaminathan’s cell phone, we made our way out of the room (near the entrance to which I saw an unusual Tanjore painting of what must have been an elderly woman saint or ascetic, bare of jewellery or colourful clothing, her long gray hair flowing undone down her back) past the little roof terrace, down the stairs, through the reception room downstairs, and outside. Swaminathan told us that we’d have to wait until the electricity returned to see the family shrine as it would be too dark to see anything otherwise. So we milled around, the mosquitoes forming dense clusters above and around us. Bhonsle came down to see off his friends and he himself left a short while later. It was getting on 7 o’clock and with no idea of how much longer the power cut would last, we decided we’d go to the temple where the utsava festival for the Maha Kumbhabhishekam (grand re-consecration)was taking place.