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Archita Redkar

11 September 2025 at 2:30:25 pm

Khajuraho: The Eternal Poetry of Stone

The vast majority of Khajuraho's carvings celebrate devotion, music, dance, nature and everyday life, reflecting the richness of mediaeval Indian society. As a tour leader, one of my most rewarding experiences is introducing travellers to the timeless beauty of Khajuraho. Our Indology experts bring the temples alive through their insights, yet every visit still fills me with awe. Watching guests stand silently before these masterpieces, captivated by artistry carved more than a thousand years...

Khajuraho: The Eternal Poetry of Stone

The vast majority of Khajuraho's carvings celebrate devotion, music, dance, nature and everyday life, reflecting the richness of mediaeval Indian society. As a tour leader, one of my most rewarding experiences is introducing travellers to the timeless beauty of Khajuraho. Our Indology experts bring the temples alive through their insights, yet every visit still fills me with awe. Watching guests stand silently before these masterpieces, captivated by artistry carved more than a thousand years ago, reminds me why Khajuraho remains one of India's most extraordinary cultural treasures. Nestled in Madhya Pradesh's Bundelkhand region, Khajuraho is one of the world's most remarkable heritage destinations. Located in Chhatarpur district, about 620 kilometres southeast of Delhi, this UNESCO World Heritage Site is renowned for its magnificent temples and exquisite sculptures. Surrounded by forests, rocky hills, rivers, and rural landscapes, Khajuraho offers a remarkable blend of history, spirituality, architecture, nature, and culture. The temples were built between 950 and 1050 CE by the powerful Chandela rulers, who transformed the region into a flourishing centre of religion, art, and learning. Historical records suggest that nearly 85 temples once stood here, spread across about 20 square kilometres. Today, around 25 survive, preserving the brilliance of mediaeval Indian craftsmanship and architectural vision. The Western Group of Temples includes the magnificent Kandariya Mahadeva Temple, considered the pinnacle of Chandela architecture. Dedicated to Shiva, it rises like a sacred mountain adorned with intricate sculptures. Nearby, the Lakshmana Temple honours Vishnu and features carvings of celestial beings, dancers, musicians and scenes of daily life. Other notable temples include Vishvanatha, Chitragupta and Devi Jagadambi. The Eastern Group highlights the region's Jain heritage, particularly the Parshvanatha Temple, admired for its delicate carvings. The Southern Group includes the Duladeo and Chaturbhuj Temples, demonstrating the continued evolution of Chandela artistry and temple design. Perhaps the most discussed aspect of Khajuraho is its sculptural art. Contrary to popular perception, the famous erotic sculptures represent only a small fraction of the carvings. Most depict gods, goddesses, dancers, musicians, animals, warriors, and scenes of daily life. These sculptures reflect the ancient Indian philosophy that embraced Dharma (duty), Artha (prosperity), Kama (desire), and Moksha (liberation) as essential aspects of a balanced life. They illustrate a society that celebrated human existence while recognising spirituality as its ultimate goal. Architecturally, Khajuraho is among the finest examples of the Nagara style of temple construction. Built primarily from sandstone, the temples feature soaring shikharas, harmonious proportions, and richly carved walls. Remarkably, many were constructed without mortar, relying on precisely interlocked stones and exceptional engineering skill. More than a millennium later, these structures continue to astonish visitors and scholars alike. Khajuraho is not merely a collection of monuments but a living cultural landscape. The region continues to celebrate traditions of music, dance, storytelling, and craftsmanship. Every year, the internationally acclaimed Khajuraho Dance Festival brings together leading classical dancers who perform Bharatanatyam, Kathak, Odissi, Kuchipudi, Mohiniyattam, and other dance forms against the backdrop of illuminated temples. The festival showcases the enduring connection between art, spirituality, and heritage. Beyond the temples, visitors can explore several fascinating attractions nearby. The spectacular Raneh Falls, formed as the Ken River cuts through colourful granite canyons, offer breathtaking scenery. The Ken Gharial Sanctuary protects unique river ecosystems, while Panna National Park is famous for its tigers, leopards, deer, and rich bird life. Historical treasures such as Ajaygarh Fort and Kalinjar Fort, along with Pandav Falls, add depth to the journey. One of my most memorable visits involved a group of European travellers who arrived knowing only about Khajuraho's famous sculptures. As they explored the temples, they discovered a richer story of philosophy, devotion and creativity. Several later told me the experience had transformed their understanding of Indian culture. Every traveller takes away something different from Khajuraho. Some are inspired by its artistic brilliance, others by its spiritual symbolism, and many by its celebration of life. For me, Khajuraho represents the soul of India—ancient yet timeless, deeply spiritual yet profoundly human. At Global Voyages, we believe travel should go beyond sightseeing and create meaningful connections with people, places, and stories. Khajuraho is one of those rare destinations that achieves exactly that. Long after the journey ends, travellers remember the temple silhouettes against the evening sky, the craftsmanship carved into stone, and the insights they gained into India's cultural heritage. To visit Khajuraho is to witness one of humanity's greatest artistic achievements. To truly experience it is to understand why generations of travellers, historians, artists, and spiritual seekers continue to be drawn to this remarkable corner of India. Khajuraho does not simply impress the eyes; it inspires reflection, sparks curiosity, and leaves an enduring place in the heart. (The writer is a tourism professional and runs a company, Global Voyages. She could be contacted at goglobalvoyages@gmail.com. Views personal.)

The Soul of Bharat on the Big Screen

Mumbai: April 4, 2025, my heart feels heavier than it ever has. The news hit me like a monsoon storm—Manoj Kumar, the towering legend of Bollywood, the man who painted patriotism across our screens, is no more. At 87, he slipped away at Mumbai’s Kokilaben Dhirubhai Ambani Hospital, leaving behind a reel of memories that flicker in my mind like a projector that won’t stop spinning. As a movie fan who grew up with his films, I’m not just mourning an actor—I’m grieving the loss of a piece of my soul, a piece of India itself. They called him "Bharat Kumar," and oh, how he earned that name.


I remember the first time I saw ‘Upkar’ (1967). I was a kid, sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to our old TV. Manoj ji played Bharat, the farmer who gave everything—his dreams, his love—for his country’s soil. That song, “Mere Desh Ki Dharti,” wasn’t just a tune; it was a heartbeat, pulsing with pride and sacrifice. I’d hum it walking to school, feeling like I, too, could be that noble, that selfless. He won a National Film Award for that one, and rightly so—it wasn’t acting; it was living.

Then there was ‘Shaheed’ (1965), where he brought Bhagat Singh back to life. I’d sit there, popcorn forgotten, as he roared defiance against the British, his eyes blazing with a fire that could’ve lit up the darkest colonial night. It wasn’t just a film—it was a revolution on celluloid, a call to remember the blood that bought our freedom. Manoj ji didn’t just play the martyr; he became him, and every time I watch it, I feel that lump in my throat, that sting in my eyes. It’s no wonder it snagged three National Awards—his passion was a gift to us all.


Oh, and ‘Purab Aur Paschim’ (1970)—how do I even begin? He directed and starred as Bharat again, this time wrestling with the clash of East and West, showing us the beauty of our roots while the world tried to pull us away. I’d laugh at Saira Banu’s antics, then choke up when Manoj ji stood tall, singing “Hai Preet Jahan Ki Reet Sada.” It was a blockbuster, sure, but it was more—it was a love letter to India, penned in his signature hand-over-face style. That move, mocked by some, was his shield, his quiet strength, and I adored it.

And who could forget ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan’ (1974)? He directed and starred as Bharat—again, because who else could?—tackling poverty, injustice, and the gut-wrenching struggle for the basics of life. I’d watch, fists clenched, as he fought for the everyman, his voice cracking with raw emotion. It wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror to our society, a cry for change. Seven Filmfare Awards across his career, they say, but this one felt like it carried them all—his heart bled through every frame.


Then there’s ‘Kranti’ (1981), the epic that had me on the edge of my seat. Manoj ji as the freedom fighter, leading Dilip Kumar and Hema Malini through a storm of rebellion—it was grand, it was gritty, it was everything Bollywood could be. “Zindagi Ki Na Toote Ladi” still echoes in my ears, a reminder of the battles he fought on screen, battles that felt so real I’d dream of joining the fight. He didn’t just direct that film; he sculpted a monument to resilience, and I’d cheer like a fool every time he outsmarted the British.


As I sit here, flipping through these memories, I can’t help but feel cheated. Manoj Kumar wasn’t just an actor or director—he was family. Born Harikrishan Goswami in 1937, he carried the Partition’s scars from Abbottabad to Delhi, turning pain into purpose. He gave us over 50 films in a career spanning four decades, snagging the Padma Shri in 1992 and the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2015—honors that felt too small for a man who gave India its cinematic soul. His last role in ‘Jai Hind’ (1999) might’ve flopped, but it didn’t dim his light in my eyes.


I’d read how he met Bhagat Singh’s mother before ‘Shaheed’, seeking her blessing—can you imagine the weight of that? Or how PM Lal Bahadur Shastri urged him to make ‘Upkar’ after the 1965 war, handing him “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan” like a sacred torch? That’s who he was—a man who didn’t just entertain but carried a nation’s dreams.


Manoj ji, you weren’t just “Bharat Kumar” to me—you were the uncle who taught me pride, the friend who shared my anger, the poet who sang my hopes. Your films weren’t movies; they were my childhood, my rebellion, my tears. I’ll miss you like I miss the India you dreamed of—flawed, fierce, and forever ours. Rest in peace, sir. Om Shanti.

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