.png)
Beneath the celestial canopy, we stand. Patiently waiting to tell our stories. Just as we have done in the past and will continue to do so in the future. Peering across the silhouettes of the darkened trees that tenderly waved at each other, we eagerly wait to see those who had gathered today to hear about us. It was a night of light and sound. Tonight, will be our storytelling.
And tomorrow?
They can come back in the morning to be a part of our story too by witnessing us in our full glory.
Our tales go back to 900 to 1130 AD when the Chandella dynasty of the Chhatarpur district of Madhya Pradesh was at its pinnacle and decided to leave its imprint through us. We are the most magnificent group of medieval temples dedicated to all possible gods and goddesses imaginable. But for a long time, we were lost to the world until were rediscovered by a British army captain named Burt in 1838.
Khajuraho, our name by itself conjures the imagination of all as we have captivated the imagination of people for ages. Of 85 temples, we have been reduced to 22, but we are enough to give the world a way to wonder. Wonder about our glorious past, wonder about our faith, wonder about our creators, who did the impossible possible. Here our creation has outlived our creators.
Eons have passed since, but the stories of the craftsmen are being told and retold. If only stones could evoke motion and emotion in their celebration of life, it is here, amongst us, within us.
We are the dancing of the apsaras. We are the grace of every form of divinity. We are the wrath of every evil. We are the musing of our creators. We are the temples of Khajuraho.
Comments