BANGALORE: Talkad, is a village like any other. Visuals that fit descriptive clichés pass by the window of the bus from Bangalore. At every bus stand, scenes from the 80s’ movies present itself live. The pan-chewing working class with their statement sun-baked skin go about their routine.Step out of the KSRTC bus to this nondescript village, the stand marked by a Malayalee-run tea stall, and a yellow Karnataka Tourism Board welcomes you to Talkad. There is a Panchalinga temple fair, held once in 12 years, in Talkad. That is the reason for our visit. Expecting loud audio-visual ambience, but treated to an endless stretch of the state highway and shortening shadows, the scene does not console the mind.The only sign of moisture is already dampening the clothes when a board with politicians and local leaders’ photographs comes up ahead — a sense of relief. A small bend and lo! And behold: The colour and noise hits the senses as the spectacle of a temple festival unfolds.Amidst the cacophony, a loud voice of a wailing woman emerges. The authoritative voice in Kannada says: “Talkadu Maralaagi. Malingi maduvaagi, Mysore dhorege makkalagade hogali.” But, you fail to blink in surprise as the bad drum roll faking thunder that accompany each pause of the curse gives away the recording.This curse sets this village and this fair apart. Numerous stories exist about this curse and speculations that fight with reasoning to arrive at the truth. The recording played at the fair narrates the story of Queen Rangamma, who cursed the King of Mysore after he killed her husband, took over Talkad and her coveted nose-ring (of all things). While we were unable to find the whirlpool (it is visible in the monsoon says a devout), the sand is all over. As we inch closer to the main temple, that villagers claim is dug out of sand by the Government of Karnataka once every 12 years, the erosion on the elaborately carved stone pillars is visible. There are five main temples — Pathaleshwara, Maruleshwara, Arkeshwara, Vaidyanatheshwara and Mallikarjuna temples. But, only Pathaleshwara temple is visibly buried in sand. Even during the course of the festival, this small temple is dug out ever single day, says the priest. Situated on the banks of river Cauvery, Talkad, once a prosperous town, is now a sandbed after the river changed course. People here say that over 30 temples are buried in the sand but locals deny such claims. We leave the number to speculation.To reach the river, we have to cross the sand dunes and as we leave the town behind, the heat allows the white mantaps, pillars and temples to change its form mirage-like.But the crowded river bank and the now dirty river soon forces us to change our course into a nearby village where the sand and green fields is separated by the cool waters of a canal.Sitting on the banks of the canal, we wondered why we made this trip? The temples? The history? The fair? As we listened to the blaring recording of the curse, we knew the reason — to experience. The stories of the curse, court intrigue, miracle and mythology fly with the sand and touch everything in this town, including the visitors.
Comments
0 comment