The Temple of Yore - Belur
by Nuggehalli Pankaja
(Bangalore, India)
On moon-lit nights,swans snow-white,
Flit across the sky,
Blue beyond sight………
Human sight.
Racing through rays of moon,
They soar above,
Then dive down to circle in a group
The temple of yore-Belur,
Singing in chorus melodious,
‘Keshava! Oh Keshava, Madhava!
Gongs beat,loud and clear
Like strains of silver,
Shiva glides down bright,
Over thrones of clouds white,
Dancing to chants divine-
‘Keshava! Oh Keshava, Madhava!
,
JHANA!JHANA!JHANA!
Floats down Parvati through rainbow;
With steps like stars,smile like beam,
Anklets jingling,bracelets tinkling,
Deva-devi one in that dance of devotion,
‘Keshava! Oh Keshava, Madhava!
Nectar-like breeze,
Akin to form of moon-beings,
Sways the supple limbs of coconut trees,
While champak-laden boughs bows low,
And offers all unto
‘Keshava! Oh Keshava, Madhava!
Lightening gleams-thunder claps,
Life-like carvings spring to life!
SHANTALA OF THE HOYSALAS
Wafts down the steps with grace;
Full temple vibrates,
To the rhythm of her whole being,
‘Keshava! Oh Keshava, Madhava!
Keshava comes down from his pedestal,
Watching transfixed
This queen of all artists!
Devas float through fleecy clouds,
Full Belur throbs with songs of Shantala-
‘Keshava! Oh Keshava, Madhava!
Shiva and Parvati stand still,
Heavenly bliss!
“Jakanachari?”-Rings out the voice of the lord,
“Eternalise this dance with thy hand!
Let this temple of yore,
Be a living tribute for all times to come,
To Shantala, Of Hoysalas!’
“Worthy is thy life,Oh Shantala!”
Blessing, the swans from afar
Flit across the sky-blue beyond sight,
Beyond …….. human …… sight. . . . ………
***** Note: It was ‘Godhuli time’; I remember standing before the temple visualizing Rani Shantala doing homage to the Gods through her celestial dance made immortal through the carvings of Jakanachari the Michael Angelo of our Karnataka. Imaginative that I am, the scene was transformed to a moon-lit night, jhana jhana of the anklets resounding, with Shantala dancing as of yore. I scribbled feverishly on some piece of paper and knew what I had scribbled only when I went through it the next day. Was it one of the inspirations I experience now and then?