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News Updates - 30 June 2007
All-stone Hindu temple rises in Hawaii WAILUA, Hawaii — In a clearing within Kauai Aadheenam's lush gardens, the ping, ping, pinging of metal chipping at stone can be heard as a half-dozen artisans from India put the finishing flourishes on the Hindu monastery's legacy for the ages. Hand-carved in granite and shipped in pieces to the island from India, the Iraivan Temple is faithful to the precise design formulas defined by South Indian temple builders a thousand years ago. The $8 million temple to the god Shiva is the first all-stone Hindu temple outside of India, according to the Kauai monks. The project is a rarity even in India. The ranks of skilled carvers from India have dwindled in recent centuries, as stone has yielded to concrete and steel. Design modifications in new temples outside India have become a necessity to make worship at the traditionally open-air spaces bearable during the winters in Canada or New York City. Lush, tropical Kauai, known as Hawaii's Garden Isle, doesn't have that problem. "Actually it's the first all-stone temple made anywhere in quite a while. I think our architect in India said he's made two in 50 years," said Sannyasin Arumugaswami, a generously bearded monk enveloped in an orange cotton robe. Construction began in 1990 and could take another 10 years to finish because of the mass of the structure and the skill needed to build it. The temple has already incorporated 80 shipping containers worth of stone and is surmounted by a gold-gilt cupola carved over three years by just four men. The temple is the vision of a former ballet dancer and Californian who founded the monastery back in 1970, Satguru Sivaya Subramuniyaswami. Subramuniyaswami, who died at 74 in 2001, embraced Hindu monasticism in the late 1940s. Today his Kauai monastery is home to 22 monks who spend their days in prayer at the monastery's current Kadavul Temple, tending the monastery's fruit orchards and livestock, or putting out the order's quarterly publication "Hinduism Today." While many of the Kauai monks are converts, hailing from about six different countries, the order's focus, as reflected in its stone temple, is on tradition. And the rules here are strict. While day-trippers are welcome, the monastery does not allow the curious to try out monastic life for a few days or weeks. The minimum stay is six months. And all the monks are celibate, single and male. Once they take their permanent vows, they do not speak of their lives before the monastery. "It's like the institution was picked up in India and plopped down here ... Something our founder purposely tried to do is not dilute it or change it seriously because of where it is," said Satguru Bodhinatha Veylanswami, the current guru and abbot of the monastery. Still, the ascetics' traditional orange, yellow or white cotton robes and shaved or bearded appearances belie their modern savvy. These monks have cell phones, digital cameras, podcasts and widescreen computer monitors to put out their magazine, with a worldwide circulation of 15,000 print and 5,000 digital. The monastery's Web site (www.himalayanacademy.com) gets up to 40,000 hits a day. "If you start searching Hinduism on the Web you come to us in a hurry," said Arumugaswami, who is also managing editor of the magazine. The monks do not entirely eschew outside society. They have been deeply involved in community actions, which include helping design and print anti-drug bumper stickers they then donated to Kauai county, said state Sen. Gary Hooser, who lives near the monastery. "They're very good neighbors. ... They have a significant presence in terms of building their temple and the monks and the property they have there. But they manage that presence very well, so it's very low key," Hooser said. The monastery's partially constructed temple now stands at the edge of small valley that plunges down to the Wailua River, a pond and a few rushing waterfalls, and against a distant backdrop of soaring green mountains. Complete with tropical flowers and other plants — some purchased from the National Tropical Botanical Garden headquartered on Kauai — the monastery's landscaped gardens are awe-inspiring. "Part of the object is to place the temple in just the most beautiful Hawaiian environment possible," said Arumugaswami, explaining that the temple's surroundings are a "natural" temple. Among the primary tenets of the order — which has about 8,000 temple supporters and several hundred close disciples — is the belief that Shiva is in everything and everyone. The goal is to understand one's oneness with Shiva, and therefore be freed from the eternal cycle of death and rebirth into the physical world. Subramuniyaswami left specific instructions for the new temple's construction. No machinery may be used to cut the stone, which he believed would destroy the stone's "song." Machines are only used to lift some of the larger stones into place. The guru also required that the temple be built without debt, prompting a fundraising campaign that has so far raised $10 million toward its goal of $16 million, half of which would be set aside as a maintenance endowment. The building still awaits part of its roof and its lava rock base that will be an homage to the design of sacred Hawaiian heiaus, ancient stone platforms used for worship in the islands. And the 700-pound crystal lingam — a symbol of the god Shiva — now housed in the monastery's Kadavul Temple has yet to be installed in the new temple's inner sanctum. But the building began to spiritually "wake up" during a ceremony held last year. "The way that we look at a temple in Hinduism is that the temple itself is a form of God. And so it is divine. It's not just a building. That's why we go through so much trouble to build it," Arumugaswami said.
Bid a Diu to Goa I'm not sure who first described the tiny island of Diu as "Goa 20 years ago" but it was a canny piece of marketing. The prospect of "discovering" an unspoilt beach paradise where you can live out a hippy idyll fuelled by cheap beer is bound to appeal. But like so many reinventions the "new Goa" tag was also misleading. Separated from Gujarat, a dry state, by a thin channel and two long bridges, the union territory of Diu does attract hundreds of Indian tourists in search of the novelty of alcohol. But it's not a party island; even the beaches are rather unspectacular. No, what lures people to Diu - and very often keeps them here for weeks longer than they intended - is the exact .opposite of Goa: its gorgeous sense of calm ,Instead of raves, visitors hire mopeds and wend their way between palm trees along wide empty roads; they explore the 16th-century Portuguese fort full of rusty cannons and green parrots; they get lost in the narrow avenues of whitewashed Mediterranean-style houses; visit churches and museums; chat in ice cream parlours; read novels on deserted beaches; wake at dawn to see fish being hauled in and perhaps get invited aboard to help out; they join late-night barbecues, drinking cheap beer and swapping stories with fellow travellers. In short, they relax. And for those who've spent more than a few days immersed in the chaotic rush of north India, suddenly slamming on the brakes can come as a beautiful shock. Like sleeping in your .own bed after months on the road This is especially true for those who can't afford to arrive via the island's airport. Diu is placed awkwardly on the southern tip of Gujarat and a gruelling journey on rickety state buses or unpredictable trains is the answer for most - from Rajkot, Veraval or Jamnagar; although the more comfortable sleeper buses run by private companies are also an option - 22 hours from Mumbai or 10 from Ahmedabad. But it is, like Goa, remarkably cheap. I stayed in one of the largest double rooms, with excellent views, at the atmospheric Hotel São Tomé Retiro for just Rs 400 a night; while a decent meal out and bottle of Kingfisher won't cost more than Rs 160 in most restaurants. At the Seashell Museum near Nagoa beach, retired merchant navy captain Devjibhai Fulbaria greeted me at the door with a mad laugh and a full naval salute." People think Diu is just small Goa but it's not," he said, grasping his hands together excitedly. "You see, Goa just follows the western system - but the Diu system is simple system; Diu people are not out dancing and shouting, we like the peaceful life. We like to sit outside our houses and talk and talk. "I was born here in 1935. When the Portuguese were in charge we had just two policemen for the whole island: no quarrels, no murder. And we still have Muslims, Christians and Hindus here and look - no fighting. I travelled the world for 48 years - but it was always my dream to return to Diu and make my museum. Diu is a peaceful place." After waving goodbye to the captain I headed down to the beach to explore. While the northern length of the island is largely marshland, the south coast alternates between long stretches of sand, rocky alcoves and jagged limestone cliffs. I found nothing but sand at first; sand, lazy waves and the odd cow. But after 20 minutes I sighted the popular Nagoa beach. This is where the water sports take place during high season, and where the coach loads of Indian day trippers are deposited to mill about in beige shirts and colourful saris, watching the braver individuals in their parties splash about in the shallows. It's lined with curiously spiky palm trees (hoka - imported from Africa 400 years ago), smart beachside restaurants and men selling mountains of green coconuts. Most of the westerners are further down the coast - sunbathing on the more secluded Sunset Point where the water is clear, the swimming just as safe. The locals, by contrast, are brilliantly friendly - forever smiling and waving and shouting hello in the street. Hidden away down side streets behind the newer, uglier hotels, the island is full of pleasant surprises. There's the charming O'Coqueiro Music Garden restaurant near St Thomas' church - just a few plastic tables set up in someone's front garden under a huge coconut tree ("they do the best fish and chips in India," a fellow traveller had told me, and it didn't disappoint); late-night barbecues outside Hotel São Tomé Retiro which is spectacularly lit up at night; and there's the sensational Herança Goesa run by the da Cruz family - a favourite spot for breakfast, but also the scene of lively dinner party buffets in the evenings with fantastic Indo-Portuguese dishes. Diu may not be party central, but it does have a beautifully subtle charm. As one tourist said to me - "if I ever settled in India, this is where I'd want to be." And the cut-price beer's not bad either.
State of ruins Asia's largest fortress was built to last. Rising out of a rocky plateau, the ramparts of Chittorgarh encircle a 240-hectare hilltop. They have withstood centuries of war and outlived dynasties, the many layers of outer fortifications snaking around crumbling palaces, small shrines, a few holy-water pools, and a forlorn marble victory tower, erected to commemorate a 15th century battle. My tour guide, an affable man born in the shadow of Chittorgarh's ruins, smiles broadly, gestures between imposing battlements and delicate temple carvings and asks, "Isn't this Rajasthan at its best?" It's hard to say. Unlike similar sites elsewhere in this fortress-strewn western Indian state, Chittorgarh offers few popular tourist diversions. There are no elephant rides through its stone portals, no village girls dancing in traditional garb, no French bistros or souvenir shops beckoning from refurbished seraglios. Nor does Chittorgarh boast the renovated opulence of Rajasthan's other great forts. Abandoned over 400 years ago, parts of it lie overgrown and in disrepair—quite the exception in a state chockablock with glitzy heritage hotels. Instead, the great hulk of Chittorgarh offers less tangible pleasures. Stoically enduring above arid plains, it embodies Rajasthan's tragic mystique better than any other monument. Facing certain defeat on three separate occasions, Chittorgarh's fierce Rajput occupants donned saffron robes and rode out from its iron-spiked gates to their deaths. Not to be outdone by the sacrificial heroics of their menfolk, the women chose jauhar, or self-immolation in a fiery pit, over captivity. Such tales have cloaked Chittorgarh in an aura that it retains to this day. My guide waxes romantic over the spot where the beautiful Queen Padmini committed herself to the flames to escape the Sultan of Delhi's clutches in 1303. "She is still beloved by the people," he declares. "She is Rajasthan." To some, these feudal pieties are precisely the problem. Compared to Goa's fashionable beach resorts, or Kerala's ayurvedic spas, Rajasthan's desert landscapes, mustachioed warriors and women in billowing, rainbow-colored ghaghra are seen as tired staples of worthy travel documentaries. Yet no place in India, perhaps anywhere in the world, has the density and variety of Rajasthan's fabulous monuments. Its three most famous destinations—the pink city of Jaipur, the blue city of Jodhpur and the lake city of Udaipur—teem with hidden delights, from bustling local markets to old observatories to tranquil gardens. Further afield, ancient holy towns like Ajmer and Pushkar afford winding urban explorations and peaceful lake views with fewer touts and tourists in the way. The golden city of Jaisalmer, with its Persian-inspired villas and trains of camel caravans, rises out of the desert like a hallucination from The Arabian Nights. Some of India's last remaining great tigers prowl the forests of Ranthambore, while the airy hill station at Mount Abu abounds with shrines and scenic views. Then there is the stunning, 15th century temple complex at Ranakpur, a majestic pile of shining white marble nestled in the wild Aravali hills—surely one of Rajasthan's best-kept secrets. Another would be the quality of the state's infrastructure. Rajasthan's roads are already among the best in India and an expanding network of highways (as well as train, air and bus routes) promises more opportunities to veer off the beaten path. And for those less able or inclined to spend a fortune on renovated palaces, Rajasthan's tourism board recently put together a list of cheap and comfortable budget hotels in over two dozen cities across the state (see rajasthantourism.gov.in). Confident that Rajasthan can win back the travelers lured away by modish yoga retreats and full-moon beach parties, my tour guide reveals his dream for Chittorgarh. He wants to repaint its faded walls, he explains, and install a sound-and-light show by the victory tower—in the manner of tourist-friendly restorations that have taken place at sites elsewhere in the state. I try not to be too encouraging. This is one place where the clamor of imaginary armies, and the bright flash of chimerical steel, is the only spectacle required.
What's good for the guru I've become an India bore. I lugged home pashminas, swiftly made clothes and new yoga techniques, but most of all I brought back a new diet. I'm an Ayurvedic nut, just like Cameron Diaz, Madonna and Cindy Crawford. I became a convert in its birthplace - the Ananda spa (www.anandaspa.com) in the Himalayas. Ayurveda is India's most ancient holistic healing system, founded some 5,000 years ago. Its Sanskrit meaning is 'science of life' and it aims to maintain good health and avoid illness by treating body, mind and soul. The basic premise is that what you eat affects you profoundly. It's a practical philosophy that can be adapted to wherever you live but is based on simple principles: food free of pesticides and additives and as freshly picked as possible; milk from cows that haven't received growth hormones (tricky, I get organic); nothing from a tin (also tricky) or containing preservatives. The breathtaking and utterly peaceful Ananda is perched in the Himalayan foothills. Far below in the valley is the hippie hangout of Rishikesh, a city on the holy Ganges, filled with temples where Hindus come to pray and bathe in the river. It was at an ashram here that the Beatles hung out with the Maharishi. Happily, Ananda is bathed in tranquillity, miles away from mad traffic and poor sacred cows eating carrier bags. Built in the grounds of a maharajah's palace, it consistently wins top spa awards, unsurprising as it offers an astonishing 79 different therapies, and a consultation to analyse your body type is the first stop when you arrive. Dr Mane has limpid brown eyes and a scary knack of clairvoyancy. 'You make friends with the wrong people quite often,' he said as he took my extremely sluggish pulse. And 'you mustn't eat when you're driving the car'. I am Vata/Pitta and he proceeded to turn my diet on its head. Plenty of warm food, frequent small meals, very little raw food. My daughter Katie turned out to be that rare creature, a Tridosha - the perfect balance of all the elements. Dr Mane has only seen four of them in 12 years. While other guests ate their specially constructed Ayurvedic diets (one girl had been there five weeks and shed a stone), Katie was allowed the run of the menu by an admiring set of waiters. The word 'blessed' was bandied about and Dr Mane would scoot out of the spa quite often to stroke her hand. With a combination of fresh, healthy food, treatments, yoga and quite a lot of walking and navel gazing, it wasn't hard to come home feeling like a new person. However, heeding the diet and the advice has been an utterly transforming experience. When I feel bloated or lethargic I know that I've been eating badly, and what to do. There's a great new cookery book out - The Modern Ayurvedic Cookbook by Amrita Sondhi that I really recommend, but it was Ananda that put me on the straight and narrow. Ayurvedic body types: what are you? Ayurveda is based on maintaining the correct balance of the universal elements within the body for optimum health. There are seven body types from the combinations below: Pitta (fire and water) Body
type: Medium build and height, soft fair skin, not happy in extreme heat.
Easy-going, but also fiery with instances of aggression and competitiveness.
When out of balance can have bad breath, body odour and excessive thirst. Vata (air) Body
type: Slim and unlikely to gain weight. Dry skin and hair, hates the cold.
When in balance is energetic, creative and artistic, but out of balance is
prone to anxiety, indigestion, bloating, insomnia and forgetfulness. Kapha (earth) Body
type: Often large-framed, calm, content, makes good friends and saves money.
Out of balance can be prone to mucous congestion, allergies, weight gain,
laziness. |
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