Watching the delicately sculpted figures on the walls of the Hoysala Temples on a drain drenched day, I was reminded of a Tamil poem by Kutti Revathi...
STONE GODDESSES
The sculpture, peeling away its skin
of stone, and coming to life,
too shy of the light,
becomes a dark shape
lurking within its curtain of shadows.
Time’s nail
hammered to its feet
has cursed the rain and the wind
also
the flung droppings of bats
and the desolate spaces of solitude.
It is possible that
sculptures overflowing with God’s grace
walk about as goddesses
where man’s gaze is unknown,
in ruined halls, perhaps,
or in the recesses of tall temple towers
STONE GODDESSES
The sculpture, peeling away its skin
of stone, and coming to life,
too shy of the light,
becomes a dark shape
lurking within its curtain of shadows.
Time’s nail
hammered to its feet
has cursed the rain and the wind
also
the flung droppings of bats
and the desolate spaces of solitude.
It is possible that
sculptures overflowing with God’s grace
walk about as goddesses
where man’s gaze is unknown,
in ruined halls, perhaps,
or in the recesses of tall temple towers
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