Khajuraho - a photo essay

Come, step inside. Here reigns immortality.

Come, step inside. Here reigns immortality. Vishnu, Shiva…Gods of gods, one the nurturer, the other the destroyer. I enter the sanctum, bow before them, intricately carved heavenly dames and celestial creatures looking at me from the ceiling, and I hope some of their everlastingness rubs off on me.

On the outside, plays mortality.

On the outside, plays mortality. Human life, in all its glory, people singing, dancing, playing, getting ready, having sex, taking care of children, battles and wars…men, women, animals, animate, inanimate, everything life has to offer, painted with a chisel on stone. I stand in front of some carvings, marvelling at the details, the sheer effort it would have taken. I gawk at the erotic bits, smiling sheepishly, and look around to see everyone doing the same. Stepping back in awe, silence overpowers me as if something more significant than man brushed my elbow on the way to eternity.

Famous across the globe for their unique sculptures, the UNESCO World Heritage temples at Khajuraho hold a different meaning for me.

They are an ode to the unique Hindu worldview, where life is equal parts devotion and playfulness, where creation and destruction feed into each other, where mortality and immortality go hand in hand, carved on a simple block of sandstone on a simple temple wall.