(Near
Madanapalle)
Vijayanagar temples are in a class
by themselves. To no Hindu king or noble would it ever have occurred to build
temples in defiance or neglect of the agama texts. But the prescriptions
were followed in accordance with the local genius. If the sculptural exuberance
of the Hoysalas may be attributed to the cry of
exultation that rings out in many of the inscriptions of Vishnuvardhana,
the founder of their greatness, the baroque magnificence of Vijayanagar
art is due to the perilous circumstances in which the political power
developed.
Nobody
who spends even a careless hour at Hampi can fail to
be struck by the contrast between the starkness of the landscape and the florid
art of the temples. But that is not all. Vijayanagar
times were the most dangerous southern India had experienced till then. Muslim
armies were ever at the gates. Harihara and Bukka had founded the kingdom at a time of extreme peril,
and there could scarcely have been a year in later times all through the
existence of the dynasty when the danger really receded. It was a kingdom
always in arms, always obliged to be prepared to defend itself. We know what
happened when the guard failed at Rakshas-Tangadi. Hampi and the provinces of the empire always stood in
danger of rapine and massacre.
Art
is sometimes an escape from reality. More often it reflects it. But there are
occasions when it represents the ideal state, the pleasant condition as far
removed from the stark reality as possible. Much of Vijayanagar
religious art is “escapist”; not indeed in any derogatory sense, but in the
justifiable one of an ethos in which one can work out one’s destiny unhampered
by hideous reality. While Vijayanagar art is in one
sense a development of Hoysala exuberance, itself a
child of the Kalyana Chalukyan
genius, in another it is a protest against the violence and turbulence of the
times in which it was made. Hence those mazes of intricately carved pillars,
that involved sculpture, those soaring Gopura in
the Tamil province, and that general magnificence. The times were
dangerous; nobody could know what peril the morrow would not bring. But at
least the House of God would be a work of magnificence and splendour.
The
Rayas and their nobles were not art historians. But
it is remarkable to find that instinctively they followed the spirit of their
times. While in the Kannadiga and Andhra provinces,
they gave full expression to the exuberance, that lay underneath the surface,
in the Tamil province they built few new temples, but added magnificently to
already existing ones. The layman in the Tamil region, to this day, calls every
towering Gopura he sees the “Rayagopura.” He believes that it was the Rayas of Vijayanagar alone who
could have built such gigantic structures. Original Vijayanagar temples are scarce in this region. When one was
identified near Mamallapuram a few years ago, it was
found to be a plain, almost a severely plain, structure.
But
even near the heart of the empire there are a few variations in the style. The
temple of Chennakesava in Somapalayam
is notable in many respects. Its Vijayanagar origin
cries out from every line of it. There cannot be the slightest doubt, not even
in the minds of the most hypercritical art historians, that it was built in Vijayanagar times. It carries no foundation inscription.
But there is no need.
On
the ceiling of the Mukhamandapa there are remains of
paintings of “Ramayana” scenes. Only a pitiful remnant has survived and even
that is in deplorable condition. Some fifty years ago that sympathetic art
historian, Dr. James H. Cousins, drew attention to the paintings; apparently
for the first time. Though the Archaeological Survey has
performed wonders in restoring the temple which had been
attacked and pillaged in the troubled eighteenth century, it can do little
about the paintings. Rather, tribute is due to it for having done what it
could.
The
temple is notable for its comparatively plain architecture. The village of Somapalayam, which lies in Chittoor
district of Andhra Pradesh, some twenty miles from Madanapalle,
is in a stark countryside, much of it barren and arid. It is remarkable that
the temple harmonises with this spirit. Perhaps its
builders realised instinctively that a second Vittala temple in Somapalayam
would be out of place. Therefore, they fashioned a plain building.
Plain,
except for the “Kalyanamandapa.” Obviously the spirit
of Vijayanagar times could not be fully denied. It
has insisted on its pound of flesh, so to say. This Mandapa is truly gorgeous. A creation in black stone, it
gleams and glistens like the pillars the Kakatiyas
erected. The pavilion in the centre will be admired
even in Hampi.
Besides this remarkable Mandapa, there are a few other aspects what may be called artistic sportiveness. There is a small stone chariot before the “Mukhamandapa.” It may not bear comparison with the celebrated chariot of Hampi or even that of Tadipatri, but it is notable in its way.
Further,
outside the temple proper, there is a magnificent stone “Dhvajastambha.”
Rising to a height of fifty-two feet, it is a real work of art. Then, by the
side, there is a tall narrow Mandapa in which the
image of the Lord used to be placed on a swing. Thirdly, there is a broader Mandapa abutting the temple’s eastern wall which contains
five portrait sculptures.
But
all these are concessions to the essential spirit of Vijayanagar
art. The temple, as a whole, marks a departure. In keeping with the bare
countryside outside, it is a plain structure. In the typical Vijayanagar temple sculpture swamps architecture. Not so
here. It is the architecture that claims most attention. The sculpture, in the
“Kalyanamandapa”, the portraits, and the stone
column, do deserve study. But this temple is that of an architect.
There
is a fine clarity about it, restored though it is today. Set in a small “Prakara”, the sanctum faces east. The “Mukhamandapa”,
which carries the paintings on its ceiling, leads to a small “Ardhamandapa” and thence into the sanctum. To the right of
this structure, and not to the left as is usual in Vaishnava
temples, stands the shrine of the Thayar. This too is
a plain building. It is to the left that the “Kalyanamandapa”
blazes away in its ornateness.
This
brief description shows how vastly different it is from the typical Vijayanagar temple. There are no ornate Mandapas
here, with jewelled pillars, with prancing
equestrians, with stone rings and the other features that distinguish a Vijayanagar production. Instead, here is a plain building
which the architect can admire. But, to add variety, there are some aspects of
sculptural floridness.
May
we not deduce from a study of this temple that Vijayanagar
art could adapt itself to the surrounding ethos, make itself receptive to the
local influences?