Skip to main content

The Dumbness of Orchha



Our tourist guide was deaf and dumb. 

Chaturbhuj Temple
Maggie and I landed in Orchha rather unexpectedly.  We had no idea what lay in store for us there except that some parts of the movie, Raavan, were shot there.  The auto driver stopped in the parking lot and pointed at an ancient structure and mumbled something.  I asked him what it was and he said while pushing his auto into its parking corner, “Mandir (temple).  There’s also a mahal (palace).”  He did not look cooperative at all.  He must have been irked by the cop who swindled Rs 50 out of him at the UP-MP border though he added that amount to our fare in the end.  “What fault did you commit so that you had to bribe the cop?” I asked when he had returned from the cop.  “It’s the routine...” he mumbled with palpable irritation.

The Ascent
We ascended the granite steps of the Chaturbhuj temple.  A honeycomb lay hanging on the arch at the entrance.  There was a priest conducting some rituals and a few devotees were attending them.  We looked around, up and down, and then proceeded to the other side where another flight of concrete steps would take us down.  As we were descending a boy made a gesture to us from below.  He was asking us to wait.  We did wait as he ran into a small door and came out with two things: a key and a sign board that he hung on his neck briskly asking us to read it.  It said, “I am deaf and dumb, help me.”  Then he dangled the key on our faces making another gesture that meant, “Follow me.”

“He has something to show us,” I said to Maggie.  We followed him.  He opened a small door which led to a very narrow path.  He gave me a torch and made another gesture.  We went in, climbed up many narrow and steep steps conquering the various levels of the temple until we reached the top from where the view looked quite charming.  I did not understand most of what our guide was trying to communicate through his generous gestures.

A view from the top
When he brought us down some half an hour later, we rewarded him amply and proceeded to other sites of interest.  On the way, we had our breakfast at Amar Mahal which looked palatial.

Orchha did not look neglected really.  But there was something about the place that sapped its potential to be a tourist attraction.  All along the way, the landscape looked like a desolate wilderness dotted with some thirsty bushes and trees. 

There is a new temple adjacent to the ancient structure.  There were hundreds of devotees standing in a queue with their holy offerings in hand.  Perhaps, Orchha is a religious centre rather than a tourist attraction, I thought.  In spite of all that crowd, the place looked very quiet without any rush or sound.  Maybe, we had reached the place at a wrong time in a wrong season.  Nevertheless, there was something dumb about the place. 

Amar Mahal where we relished a buffet breakfast
As we made our way back after visiting the other places, our tourist guide came running to meet us again.  He folded his hands with a beaming smile on his face.  That smile sparkled against the grimness of all the granite around.  In fact, that was the only smiling face I ever saw in Orchha.


Top post on IndiBlogger.in, the community of Indian Bloggers


Related post: The Eagle of Orchha



Comments

  1. Looks like you had a mixed experience...not so good in the beginning but ending was good :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, Jayanta, a mixed experience, interesting nonetheless.

      Delete
  2. The two characters you briefly mentioned about, seems very interesting to me. Their behaviors are so unlike. One not so friendly, the other smiling at you. This is really a mixed experience as understood by Jayanta.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's difficult to smile if you are living in Orchha, perhaps! Otherwise one has to be deaf and dumb!! The place baffled me a bit.

      Delete
  3. Recall my memories of 2000 , when I was in jhansi and pursuing my B.tech. Orchha was our weekend destination . after 14 yrs nothing changed there ! great blog , i m here first time .

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Glad I could revive your memories. Perhaps, Orchha won't change for another century! It has merged into history, it looks like.

      Delete
  4. My blurred memory has the same impression...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Orchha won't change much in centuries, Amit.

      Delete
    2. I thought in the same line and tried to put them in best of my expressions yesterday but the net connection kept flickering deleting my words. I gave up after several attempts.

      Let Orccha not change! That's my wish. At least in terms of its serenity and the smile of the little boy that should never vanish from any impoverished being.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Florentino’s Many Loves

Florentino Ariza has had 622 serious relationships (combo pack with sex) apart from numerous fleeting liaisons before he is able to embrace the only woman whom he loved with all his heart and soul. And that embrace happens “after a long and troubled love affair” that lasted 51 years, 9 months, and 4 days. Florentino is in his late 70s when he is able to behold, and hold as well, the very body of his beloved Fermina, who is just a few years younger than him. She now stands before him with her wrinkled shoulders, sagged breasts, and flabby skin that is as pale and cold as a frog’s. It is the culmination of a long, very long, wait as far as Florentino is concerned, the end of his passionate quest for his holy grail. “I’ve remained a virgin for you,” he says. All those 622 and more women whose details filled the 25 diaries that he kept writing with meticulous devotion have now vanished into thin air. They mean nothing now that he has reached where he longed to reach all his life. The

Unromantic Men

Romance is a tenderness of the heart. That is disappearing even from the movies. Tenderness of heart is not a virtue anymore; it is a weakness. Who is an ideal man in today’s world? Shakespeare’s Romeo and Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s Devdas would be considered as fools in today’s world in which the wealthiest individuals appear on elite lists, ‘strong’ leaders are hailed as nationalist heroes, and success is equated with anything other than traditional virtues. The protagonist of Colleen McCullough’s 1977 novel, The Thorn Birds [which sold more than 33 million copies], is torn between his idealism and his natural weaknesses as a human being. Ralph de Bricassart is a young Catholic priest who is sent on a kind of punishment-appointment to a remote rural area of Australia where the Cleary family arrives from New Zealand in 1921 to take care of the enormous estate of Mary Carson who is Paddy Cleary’s own sister. Meggy Cleary is the only daughter of Paddy and Fiona who have eight so

Yesterday

With students of Carmel Margaret, are you grieving / Over Goldengrove unleaving…? It was one of my first days in the eleventh class of Carmel Public School in Kerala, the last school of my teaching career. One girl, whose name was not Margaret, was in the class looking extremely melancholy. I had noticed her for a few days. I didn’t know how to put the matter over to her. I had already told the students that a smiling face was a rule in the English class. Since Margaret didn’t comply, I chose to drag Hopkins in. I replaced the name of Margaret with the girl’s actual name, however, when I quoted the lines. Margaret is a little girl in the Hopkins poem. Looking at autumn’s falling leaves, Margaret is saddened by the fact of life’s inevitable degeneration. The leaves have to turn yellow and eventually fall. And decay. The poet tells her that she has no choice but accept certain inevitabilities of life. Sorrow is our legacy, Margaret , I said to Margaret’s alter ego in my class. Let

Octlantis

I was reading an essay on octopuses when friend John walked in. When he is bored of his usual activities – babysitting and gardening – he would come over. Politics was the favourite concern of our conversations. We discussed politics so earnestly that any observer might think that we were running the world through the politicians quite like the gods running it through their devotees. “Octopuses are quite queer creatures,” I said. The essay I was reading had got all my attention. Moreover, I was getting bored of politics which is irredeemable anyway. “They have too many brains and a lot of hearts.” “That’s queer indeed,” John agreed. “Each arm has a mind of its own. Two-thirds of an octopus’s neurons are found in their arms. The arms can taste, touch, feel and act on their own without any input from the brain.” “They are quite like our politicians,” John observed. Everything is linked to politics in John’s mind. I was impressed with his analogy, however. “Perhaps, you’re r