travel diaries: rama arya in medina

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It is evening and I am watching the news. Missiles are tearing through Western Asia in a war that is well into its 23rd day. Feels strange it was only a few weeks ago I was exploring the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.

Never had I felt safer than in the futuristic cities of Riyadh and Jeddah. Or discovering the mysteries of UNESCO-listed Hegra and Jubbah. Or clambering over the butter smooth gigantic rocks of Shada Mountain and locking eyes with hundreds of camels at Buraidah, the world’s largest camel market, with a pit stop at the ancient port city of Yanbu on the Red Sea thrown in to add some blue into the desert mix.

All these were incredible parts of the Kingdom, but what’s Saudi Arabia without Mecca and Medina. And so, it was for me.

As a non-Muslim I did not have access to the former; Medina was the closest I could get to the heart of the Islamic world that encompasses 2 billion people, with every fourth person in 2026 being a Muslim. In spite of not being a part of the Hajj pilgrimage or its lesser sibling, the Umrah, any journey to Mecca is deemed incomplete without a visit to Medina. Even the names of the two holy cities are often taken in one breath! Continue reading →

photo essay: hampi, stories told and untold

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Don’t mistake the swarms of visitors at Hampi as tourists. Not all of them are. Most of them are pilgrims. For in Hampi, nestled in a surreal boulder-strewn landscape in north Karnataka, each stone is sacred.

Irrevocably tied to the Hindu epic Ramayana, Hampi traces itself back to a mystical past. Anegundi, the expanse across Hampi’s Tungabhadra river, was then known as the vanar [monkey] Kishkindha kingdom ruled by King Sugriva. In the epic, Sugriva’s commander Hanuman and army of monkeys helped Rama rescue his wife Sita from the demon Ravana.

Fast forward a few millennia from otherworldly mythology to historical facts substantiated by Kannada inscriptions and journals of Italian merchant Nicolo di Conti [1420], Persian diplomat Abdur Raazaq [1442], and Portuguese traveller Domingo Paes [1520].

Hampi, was now the capital of the wealthy, secular, and immensely powerful Hindu Vijayanagar empire. The richest city in the Indian subcontinent and the second biggest city in the world, it ruled a realm that encompassed modern-day Karnataka, Telangana, Andhra Pradesh, and Tamil Nadu.


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aihole, cradle of indian temple architecture

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Indian temple design did not arrive at in a day. Surprised? 🙂

More surprising is where its evolution took place.

The floor-plans and superstructures one takes so much for granted today took shape in a tiny village in north Karnataka over a period of two hundred years of vigorous, yet brazen experimentation.

Known as the ‘cradle of Hindu temple architecture,’ Aihole, the first capital of the Early Chalukya Kingdom [6th to 8th Century] served as a laboratory for the construction of sacred sites.

From rock-cut cave temples to apsidal-shaped monumental structures to one akin to a cozy homely hut. From the ‘northern’ high curved Nagara-style and ‘southern’ pyramidal stepped Dravida-style superstructures to the hybrid ornate Vesara model typical of the Deccan. They all came into being here.

There are 15 prototypes of sandstone standalone and rock-cut cave temples in Aihole’s over 125. Each a masterpiece built by architects 1,500 years ago who designed fearlessly and were ready to break stereotypes.

It was a feat made possible by the prevailing rulers’ openness and willingness to experiment as they reigned over the Deccan, a region sandwiched between the north and south of the Indian subcontinent.

Currently on the UNESCO World Heritage Tentative List for its role in temple architecture evolution, many of Aihole’s edifices owe their names to a more recent and lax naming ceremony. Durga Temple is not dedicated to the goddess, but refers to a later Durg or watchtower built on its roof. Lad Khan temple, Aihole’s oldest temple, is so named because when discovered by the Archaeological Survey of India, it was known as where a Mr. Lad Khan once lived. A gentle reminder of Indian plurality. 🙂 And the Ravana Phadi rock-cut cave temple has less to do with Ravana and more to do with Shiva.

Next time you walk into a Hindu temple, surrounded by a familiar standardized floor-plan and superstructure, just remind yourself it is a design which won the lottery and got pushed into the future. There were many others in the original basket where these came from. And if you are curious about them, here are some of the candidates.

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travel shorts: pattadakal, a marriage of sorts

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Anyone who is acquainted with the idea of India, will also be familiar with the great north-south divide. It encompasses ethnicity, language, culture and in a deeply religious nation, temple architecture. Yet, in a narrow strip atop the Deccan plateau, one gets to witness a marriage of sorts in the latter that is completely unique to the subcontinent.

Pattadakal, a UNESCO-listed 7th-8th Century World Heritage Site displays this north-south eclectic mix at its finest. The enclosed part of the site is made up of eight temples—three of which are models, one a ‘project work,’ and four designed as full-fledged functional places of worship.

The Virupaksha Temple in the last group, with its sophisticated amalgamation of north and south elements, has been in continuous use since its consecration in 740 CE. It was commissioned by Lokamahadevi, a powerful Chalukya Queen, to commemorate her husband’s victory over the Pallava kings of the South.

If you have been wondering about my terminology, it is because Pattadakal, along with Aihole, were akin to a ‘laboratory’ where architects and artisans under royal decree experimented with temple architecture.

How about a corridor through which the local populace could circumambulate the holy sanctum which was otherwise out of bounds? A Nandi to mark the temple site? Perhaps a kalash finale atop the roof symbolising the meeting of heaven and earth? This investigational process, carried out over a couple of centuries culminated in Pattadakal’s most sophisticated edifices. Where the north and south architectural styles, till then side by side in platonic comradery, also merged in a hybrid blend for a while.

Scroll on to see some more images of this site. ❤ Continue reading →

travel diaries: four caves, a lake, a seeker and badami

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One of Badami Cave Temples' most impressive sculptures: Shiva as the 18-armed Nataraja doing the Tandava Nritya—the cosmic dance of creation, preservation, and destruction.

One of Badami Cave Temples’ most impressive sculptures: Shiva as the 18-armed Nataraja doing the Tandava Nritya—the cosmic dance of creation, preservation, and destruction.

One is never far from the gods in India. They are everywhere. Carved out of living rock. Carved into living rock. As far back as even 578 CE.

It is just after lunchtime, and I am at the foot of a gigantic red sandstone escarpment. Hundreds of school-children are racing down the steep uneven steps hewn into the cliff’s face. Their teachers shout behind them to slow down. Not that their wards pay any attention to the ominous warnings. Dressed in shiny tracksuits, they run in and out of the cavernous halls, doubled over in unstoppable giggles.

Slicing their way through this human avalanche are staid family groups. Their elderly matriarchs stomping ahead, undeterred by limps or wobbly canes.

“Aaj bahut bheed hai [It is very crowded today],” I observe to the security guard at the gate. “Roz aisa hai. Season hai na aaj kal [It is like this every day. It is the season nowadays],” he smiles back happily.

In a few months these cliffs will be deserted again, first under the scorching summer sun and then because of the monsoons which would make the stone steps a veritable death trap.

Yet such ominous weathers rarely affected pilgrims in the distant past. 1,400 years ago.

Portrait of a man in Ancient India. Ancient Hindu temples, by virtue of their depiction of both the sacred and secular, offer a fascinating insight into the then prevailing norms and societies.

Portrait of a man in Ancient India. Ancient Hindu temples, by virtue of their depiction of both the sacred and secular, offer a fascinating insight into the then prevailing norms and societies.

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photo essay: monasteries and manuscripts, echoes from the world’s first christian country

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Before Rome. Before even Constantinople. The first one to officially adopt Christianity was Armenia. Saint Gregory the Illuminator had miraculously healed King Tiridates III who had lost his mind. In gratitude, the King declared Armenia a ‘Christian’ country. It was the year 301.

A century later, in 405, the brand-new State religion introduced a brand-new script to spread ‘God’s word.’ Mesrop Mashtots, a cleric-cum-linguist, was assigned the task of creating an alphabet that would encompass the phonetic expanse of the Armenian language, a standalone member of the Indo-European language family. Over time, the scope of this script increased to document Armenian philosophy, science, and the arts.

Monasteries, as centres of faith and learning, soon cropped up across the Kingdom in breathtaking settings. Perched over canyons, atop sheer cliffs, and in verdant valleys. In the medieval era, there were tens of thousands of these. As Armenia’s realm shrunk, these reduced to a mere few thousand with four of them now UNESCO-listed.

Known as the Armenian Apostolic Church, Armenian Christianity is based on the teachings of the two early Apostles, Thaddeus and Bartholomew. What is more remarkable is that the Armenians resolutely stuck to the original version of their faith for the next 1,700 years, amidst the whirlpool of conversions, genocide, and wars that swept through the region.

Welcome to my photo essay on the most spectacular monasteries of the lot that have survived to date—each with something that sets it apart. Sometimes it is its story, sometimes its location, and sometimes its incredible art. I have punctuated these photos with those of my favourite Armenian manuscripts in Yerevan’s Matenadaran.

Wishing you happy travels, always. ❤️ Continue reading →

the 5 untold treasures of gyumri, city of 22,000 orphans

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“Armenia, aah she is a prisoner of geography!” My guide Arpi exclaims as she narrates the country’s tumultuous history in a voice that any actor would envy. A professor in linguists, guiding is her second job.

We are on the way to Gyumri, Armenia’s second largest city in the country’s north-west, close to Turkey’s border. Built of local black and orange tuff [a volcanic porous rock], the city is known by various other names: cultural capital, city of arts and crafts, to name a few. But the most evocative is “city of orphans.” 22,000 orphans took refuge in Gyumri during the Armenian Genocide of 1915 – 1923, piecing together a new life in 170 orphanages across the city.

Founded as Kumayri in the 8th Century by the Urartians—the same kingdom which also established Erebuni, Yerevan’s ancestor—it has been renamed numerous times since 1837. Alexandropol on the orders of Russian Tsar Nicholas I after his wife, Leninakan in honour of Lenin, back to Kumayri on independence, and Gyumri in 1992.

A bustling industrial hub during the Soviet era [1922 – 1990], it came crashing down, literally, on 7 December, 1988 in a 6.8 magnitude earthquake. Everything turned to dust, except for Nicholas I’s Alexandropol in the Kumayri historic district. The area is a rare remnant of low-rise Armenian urban architecture in its original setting.

Tell your travel plans to an Armenian, and the first question that pops out is “Are you going to Gyumri?” Not many non-Armenians go up this far north, and if you are doing so, you will be instantly rewarded with an appreciative nod—transforming you from a flighty tourist to a traveller with gravitas.

Though its outskirts are all brand new, because of the earthquake’s devastation, the city holds its memories close to its bosom. The pain and hesitant optimism of its thousands of orphans; the filmmakers, authors, and actors who call Gyumri home; and the craftsmen who churned out masterpieces, and continue to do so, from seemingly insipid raw material.

All these and more whisper out of the black and orange tuff intrinsic to Gyumri. Here are five of Gyumri’s most magical treasures. Do not be surprised if you bookmark a few more of your own should you visit it. ❤ Continue reading →

from a 5,500-year-old shoe to genocide to fountains: 72 hours in yerevan

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As the plane got ready to land in Yerevan, Armenia’s capital, I looked through the window and was met with a snow-capped Mt. Ararat reaching out to the skies. Armenia’s most beloved national symbol and site of the proverbial Noah’s Ark, Mt. Ararat became part of Turkey in 1921. Yet for Armenians, seeing the mountain looming over their capital city is a sign of good tidings. Just like it has been for the past two millennia.

In a strange twist of fate, the very geopolitics that gave Mt. Ararat away, also created Modern Yerevan. One of the oldest inhabited cities in the world, Yerevan’s current avatar is a product of the Soviet Union. 2,800 years ago, it used to go by the name Erebuni.

When Alexander Tamanian was assigned the task of drawing up Yerevan’s city-plan, he was first at a complete loss. He had no idea how he was going to convert the laid-back provincial town, previously under the Russian empire, into a cultural, political, and industrial centre befitting its new role as a Soviet Socialist Republic capital.

But creativity soon followed. Tamanian ingeniously combined neoclassical design, Armenian motifs, and local tuff stone in a graceful radial layout. Unfortunately, he also razed many of the earlier churches, mosques, and bazaars in the process so there is very little remaining from the pre-1920s in the city.

Off-the-beaten-path? True. Lacking in things to see and do? No ways.

Yerevan today is filled with museums, art galleries, roadside cafes, and buskers churning out fabulous music. Come nighttime, the city transforms into a riot of curated lighting, with fountains dancing to classics.

Here is a 3-day itinerary for Yerevan, a city swarming with intrepid travellers eager to explore its heady mix of Soviet and Armenian charms.

Have you been to Yerevan? What did you like most about it? Do share in the comments. I would love to read them. 🙂 Continue reading →

travel shorts: khachkars, markers of armenian christianity

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There are over 50,000 khachkars in Armenia. You will see them everywhere. At ancient monasteries and modern cathedrals, along the highways encircling the Armenian Highlands, in medieval cemeteries, inside every museum whether state-of-the-art or plain old-school, and next to frigid mountain lakes.

Indigenous to Armenia, the UNESCO-listed khachkar, literally meaning ‘cross-stone,’ is, yes, a stone with a cross. 🙂 But look closely, and you will soon notice each piece is unique in its details. No two are alike. Continue reading →

film in a frame: the eclectic world of sergey parajanov’s collages

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I Am 60 Years Old, 1984.

I Am 60 Years Old, 1984.

When one’s life pans out like a movie, can one’s art be far behind?

Described as a magician in the world of cinema, Sergey Parajanov’s movies stand out for their tableaux sheathed in visual poetry. There are no clearly defined narratives or dialogues in the four globally acclaimed films he made in his lifetime. Instead, in its place are near-static scenes lush with colour and symbolism which explore the stories within us rather than outside of us.

Born to Armenian parents in Tbilisi in 1924, Parajanov’s first love was a Tatar Muslim woman Nigyar Kerimova. Soon after their marriage in 1951 she was murdered by her brother for marrying a Christian and converting to Christian Orthodoxy. When 32, Parajanov fell in love with 17-year-old Ukrainian Svetlana Sherbatiuk. The marriage ended in divorce.

Unlucky in love, but lucky in life? It was not to be so with Parajanov. Fame merely brought him more misery. His refusal to conform to Soviet Union ideals and the Socialist Realism style led him to being imprisoned twice. The second time around, when released, it was on condition that he be forbidden from living in Moscow, Leningrad [St. Petersburg], Kiev or Yerevan, nor be allowed to make films. The ban lasted for 15 years.

Bereft of the freedom to create films, it was in the dark squalor and aching hunger of the gulag camps that he turned to making collages. He described his collages as ‘compressed films.’ The most poignant are his seemingly simple boxed dolls which hold lifetimes in their narratives, made from pieces of sack he would pick up whilst doing manual labour. Continue reading →