Rock of Ages

Come to think of it, when the family first decided on Orissa, I was the one with a long face. The state was in the news for all the wrong reasons and didn’t look anything like a holiday destination, I protested.

But right now, after stepping out of the boat and sitting in an unpretentious dhaba, I’m eating my words and some of the best food I’ve ever tasted in my life. There’s prawn, crab, lobster and what-have-you; nothing fancy but very wholesome nonetheless. Though the people in this land of rice-eaters look at you curiously when you ask for your crab with rotis.

Our stay at Chilika over, we head to the Nandakanan reserve hoping to spot a white tiger, which sadly doesn’t happen. But I’ve got no regrets and am looking forward to our next stop—Puri. And on reaching there, immediately realise that New Year’s is the wrong time to be in Puri.

Who would want to party on a pilgrimage, did you say? Going by the hordes of travellers, just about everybody and his girlfriend. Uh oh, bad timing, we think, and decide on a quick darshan of Jagannath temple.

The main temple, a majestic structure which rises up to 65 metres, stands on an elevated platform in the heart of the city. The 12th century monument displays the plasticity of the Kalinga architecture and is embellished with intricate motifs.

Food for as many as 20,000 people is made here everyday, our guide drones, pointing out its architectural highlights. The architecture is splendid, but I also notice the priests, eyes filled with greed. As the sea of humanity surges into the temple, these holy men do all they can to wheedle some money—even refusing to give prasad if you don’t pay for it.

We leave and head for Konark, the road to which is smooth, straight and very nearly devoid of traffic.

Konark’s 13th century Sun Temple, with its grand chariot resting on 24 carved wheels, is undoubtedly the crowning jewel of Oriya architecture. When the sun rises, the first rays fall on the sanctum sanctorum and then circle the temple during the course of the day, illuminating three magnificent images: the morning sun, the midday sun and the setting sun.

Then there are amorous dalliances, depictions of love and war, hunting scenes, dancers and animals, all carved in stone at this World Heritage monument. A signboard tells us that the Konark Festival is held in the first week of December and should not be missed. Next time, maybe!

Puri and Konark might be Orissa’s most famous attractions, but I found Emperor Asoka and his legacies in stone equally appealing. Close to the site of the Kalinga war which turned the Daya river red and the emperor into a pacifist, is Dhauli. Dhauli boasts of India’s oldest rock-cut sculpture in the form of a magnificent elephant atop an Asokan edict that immortalises the event.

Orissa isn’t just about sights. You can fill your shopping bag with exquisite handicrafts—mirror-work lampshades (Pipli, a small village on the Bhubaneswar-Puri highway is the place to visit), wall hangings, sunshades, cane boxes, pattachitras (paintings on leaves), and silver filigree (Cuttack’s the best bet).

Time, a little more of it, would have come in very handy in Orissa, I think, as I prepare to land in Kolkata for the next leg of my holiday. There’s a lot more left to explore. Sooner or later I’ll head back, in search of more pleasant surprises.