The Oasis

I had begun with the concept of oasis in the city in one of my previous posts. It was about Kooch Behar Kali Bari, and I had contrasted its green space with the concrete-asphalt area around it. This time round the term is used for the positive extreme of the polarity of concrete-asphalt; about an aesthetically pleasing building set amidst an apparently impossible open space in the heart of the densely populated Banaras.

This temple, situated at nearly the end of the dense network of galis between Raj Ghat and Dashashwamedh Ghat,  is unique because of the open space around it. Temples in this zone have been found claustrophobically cramped by foreign visitors, not without any reason. Of course there is Gyaan Vaapi and then Adi Vishweshwar Temple, but open space in one of them is no more, and in the other it’s not much. Houses from all the directions are looking at the temple at Godowlia, water in mouth, to pounce upon the space in front of them and claim it as their own. Change has not left this campus untouched. Urballaghology knocks.

I had not thought that this post will touch the issue of change right in the beginning. I had planned first to display the aesthetic treat the temple offers to the eyes, in entirety and in its parts too. I still intend to do so, but after having covered change in the temple campus. There used to be more greenery in the compound once, i.e. when I was a child. I remember the Pandanus fascicularis (ketaki/kevda) plant that used to be near the back opening of the sanctum sanctorum of the temple, its roots hanging in the air and its sharp edged leaves. Then, there used to be a couple of trees of the yellow variety of Nerium oleander. And there used to be no brick walls in that region. It used to be an invitingly open space; open for children to play in.

There used to be a commercial set up around the entrance pathway back then too, but it has expanded too much now. Although the temple is the property of the erstwhile King of Kasi, many people use the premises, I am quite sure in a very unauthorized manner. The open space in front of the temple is used by the owners of cows from a nearby house. They keep their cows there, on both the sides of the entrance near the long stone steps.

Many other temple compounds in Kasi are being used in a similar manner. The compound of the temple on Panchkot Ghat has now become a privately owned and jealously guarded guest house, solely for foreign nationals. The same compound where we used to play freely in our childhood now considers as trespassers anyone who does not bring them money, and they aren’t welcome at all. I speak from personal experience. I’ll try not to tell that story on these posts. It’s too bitter to be here. Now, back to the temple.

As one enters the gate of the compound from the street, walks a few steps forward and turns left, the eyes are greeted by an open space and a finely carved stone temple set at the centre of a stone platform. A flight of stone stairs rises from the ground level to take the visitor up to the temple.

 

One peculiarity of this temple is that its facade is actually the left side of the temple whose front opens to a very narrow gallery like space between the entrance to the temple’s pavilion and the set of houses to the left in the image of the right hand above.

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Panchkot and the Past

My friend Biplab sent me a new set of photos the day before yesterday. I had a long conversation with my uncle (the handsome gentleman whose picture with my beautiful aunt I had shared in a post) yesterday. These two random incidents had one thing in common (other than Kasi that is): Panchkot. I have posted material on the Ghat side of the compound in some of my previous posts. I used to go to meet somebody (I don’t remember name or any other detail) with my grandparents. I used to roam around in the temple compound. The temple (don’t remember whose) was to the left, facing it was a huge open air courtyard with Gangaji to its right. The courtyard had a flight of stairs at its left corner and the rest of it was parapeted, with a chabutra running through its whole remaining length. There were trees and freshness in the compound. Although not as big as Koochbehar Kalibari’s compound, Panchkot was spacious enough to fill a child’s life and imagination and to stay in his memory for a long time (nearly ever).

(Photo: Mr. Biplab Goswami)

My uncle mentioned Panchkot while talking about his past. He is a kindred soul, my uncle, for various reasons. Our talk had started with a celebration: his celebration of India’s Independence Day in Hong Kong with other Indians, and how it was different from that in Singapore.  We were talking about how life makes choices for us (no he was talking, and I was imbibing it all) and he mentioned how he used to enjoy Kasi in his school and University days. I envy my uncle’s being more of a Banarsi than I am. I have never told him so. The same goes for my youngest uncle too, and my mamas. So, my uncle was reminiscing and he told me that I could never understand how much he missed his city and the time he had spent there. He told me how his father, i.e. my grandfather, used to sit with his friends in Panchkot chatting and having good time and how he used to be a witness of that celebration of life, of that adda, so full of joie de vivre! . The place was not very far from my ancestral house. It may not wholly be a coincidence that the house in which my grandfather used to live before shifting to our present house, is at a stone’s throw from Panchkot.

(Photo: Mr. Biplab Goswami)

Urballaghologically speaking, the city that he was remembering, the city of my olden days and the city that we have today, are not the same. They can’t be. For change is the only unchangeable law of nature. But change is of two types: good and bad. In his past and mine, the front gate of the compound used to be open, always wide open. Not even once had I seen the gate prohibitively locked, as it is in the image above. The lock at the gate has a symbolic significance too. It symbolizes change whose type that I’ll let the reader decide. It’s similar to the change that has engulfed B. H. U. This change is the same kind as that of the whole Kashi Vishwanath- Gyaan Vaapi compound. At least they waited fro something to happen before slapping change over those places. What reason did these people give before caging the spirit of the place?

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.