Ratanpur, a Cultural Gem
It’s the very early hours of a pre-winter morning, the Navratri season, as Marie, my neighbour from South Africa and I bundle into our red Accent and take off to explore Ratanpur, a quaint village-town in the State of Chhattisgarh, about 100 km from Korba where we reside. The infant State is a veritable treasure trove of natural, architectural and sculptural beauty. However, many archeological sites are in various stages of exploration and discovery and, several of the structures magnificent even in ruins. Being a dedicated travel buff, my curiosity is kindled and Marie is just the right company for she is as much a travel enthusiast, with a keen eye for the aesthetic and devours information at an amazing rate.
An hour into the journey and we reach the village of Pali, approximately 25 km from Ratanpur. The skies have turned a shade lighter and the mist cleared out. We come upon an ancient Shiv Temple by the side of a clear blue pond. There are many of these water bodies in Chhattisgarh and many of them are inviting picnic spots. The temple structure itself is deemed a protected site by the Archeological Survey of India (ASI), built during the reign of King Vikramaditya I between the years 870-895. The structure is awe-inspiring and we are left gawking at such brilliant piece of creation lying unattended! A couple of locals join us and tell us that puja is performed at the temple sanctum on occasions when crowds come in. These rustics are attracted by our cameras and more so by the phirangi lady (Marie) who has accompanied me. This is an aspect of Chhattisgarh I warm to – its people are simple and as yet uncorrupted by the affluent world outside their little domain. They are neither motivated to work and accumulate riches for a supposedly comfortable living, nor do they display an undesirable temper when provoked. Smilingly, they will tell you they will not do a certain job and that they are happy to be eating their chaval, dal and subzi, which is almost always barbatti (a bean variety) and a couple of other greens.
After circumambulating the temple structure and admiring its beauty from all angles and clicking away at our digitals, we continue our drive towards Ratanpur. The fiery planet above is preparing to step out of his home and begin his day’s work. As the first streaks of dawn emerge on the horizon, the leaves of trees shine shyly in different stages of maturity, and glisten with miniscule droplets of water left on them by the wafting mist. Every creature, little and large, rises to the call of a new day and is readying to embrace its routine. Our car cuts through swathes of rippling rich paddy fields as we approach the entrance to Ramtekri and its surrounds. We observe that the monotony of the green pasture is broken by dots of black and white --- buffaloes, egrets, and young lambs taking the morning walk.
As we trudge up about two hundred steps to reach the Ramtekri Temple, we hear the familiar rhapsody of the morning rituals. The clanging of the temple bells is in synch with the chanting of mantras. Marie is rapturous at the enchanting beauty of the surrounds as we stop every forty or fifty steps to look around. The riot of green in its several hues, the earthy freshness of the village air, is highly invigorating even though we are in oxygen debt by the time we reach the top.
The air is redolent with a mixture of aromas from the smoking chulhas of the village households, many of them brewing herbal chai in the open, incense offered to their choice deities and the twirls of tobacco smoke from cigarettes. I am overwhelmed with emotions as I inhale this amalgam of smells and memories from childhood unfold like elaborate origami sculptures. I remember the beautiful pre-winter early mornings in Delhi, when the air would be refreshing, gently carrying with it the scent of sweet blossoms from its several lawns and parks. Those were days when pollution was alien to the city and lesser number of automobiles vroomed past its streets.
The Shiv Linga here is swayambhu, it emerged on its own and the local Chhattisgarhis refer to Shiv here as Buda Mahadev and Vridheshwar. The temple, the priest claims was discovered around 1050 during the reign of Raja Ratandev, “But probably the temple was there much earlier, during the Dwaparyug during the period of Raja Moradhwaj”, adds the priest. There are a few unique features of the Shiv Linga here. Firstly, it does not look like a typical Linga that is normally rounded at its top; rather, it appears as if the top of the Linga has opened up to allow the tresses of Lord Shiva to spill over and around it. Another strange aspect of the Linga here is that its lower segment is permanently immersed in water which stays constant at a particular level, neither rising nor falling above this mark and yet remains fresh. Thirdly, the uppermost copper-based platform that holds the Linga, itself rests on a stone base that apparently is not fixed to the ground! Similarly the Linga is also not fixed to either platform but remains suspended, reveals the priest!
Except to say that this is a miraculous feature of the temple and the Linga, the priest is unable to give us skeptics any plausible explanations for the suspended Linga and platform. No doubt there are thousands of believers, temple devotees, some of who we meet and the reiterate the priest’s stance. Yes, but what is true is the fact that this is probably the only Shiv temple of its kind where the Lord is offered daily Prasad of cooked rice, dal and subzi, a ritual the origins of which are not known.
According to legend, during the reign of King Vridhsen, one of his cows would routinely stray from the rest of the herd, empty its udder on a certain mound and return. The shepherd tending the cows noticed this one day and informed Vridhsen who showed utter disbelief. Nevertheless he followed the cowboy and the cow one day and verified the truth for himself. Subsequent to this exercise, Lord Shiv appeared in Vridhsen’s dream and revealed to him that it was he himself, who had taken shape under the mound where the cow emptied its udder and that the King should clear the region of the shrubs and build a temple for him, installing the Linga. Thus came to be built the Budha Mahadev or Vridheswar Temple at Ratanpur.
The story is fascinating. I act as translator between Marie and the priest and Marie is amused and befundled in equal measure. “Oh, a lot of myths do their rounds in South Africa as well. It’s all simply a question of faith whether you want to believe it or not,” Marie opines, very matter of fact.
Encouraged by our willingness to listen, the priest offers more information relating to the temple and its surrounds. Sawan Ka Somwar (Monsoon Mondays) is considered auspicious by the Chhattisgarhis and devotees from far off villages undertake a pilgrimage to the temple, walking all the way. “Eleven Brahmins assemble here to perform puja and long queues build up as devotees wait with pots of water from the adjoining pond to pour over the Shiv Ling. The marvelous feature is that with so many thousands of devotees taking a pot of water each, the level of water in the pond goes down by a good two feet and more but this water that is poured over the Shiv Ling, does not rise by that level! It remains constant at its own level,” the priest explains.
It’s an interesting tale related but we have our own reservations and feel certain that there must be some kind of engineering or architectural aspect that keeps the water level stagnant at a certain point, and no miracle thus. But we choose to humour the old priest and make the appropriate gestures and noises showing wonderment. Marie, in particular has her eyes popping out of their sockets and a very understanding smile, to which the priest warms and launches into a few more yarns.
Promising to return during one of these magical occasions, we take leave of the priest. Right now we find our photographic companions and Marie to be crowd pullers and the villagers, children especially follow us, the Pied Pipers. We don’t disappoint them and capture their quizzical, smiling faces on our lens and replay it for them. They giggle, seeing themselves on the small screen, are happy and keep waving out to us till our car pulls away from view.
Ratanpur is full of temples that serve as picnic spots too alongside being portals of sculptural beauty. It is my explorative urges, the deep desire to enjoy nature and creativity in all its shapes and shades that sets me out on these trips, not in the least religious overtures that sparks off these ventures.
Ratanpur, we learn was originally the small hamlet, Manipur. It was rechristened Ratanpur by Raja Ratandev I, of the Tripuri Kaluchuri royal clan that ruled here for eons and made Ratanpur their capital. Ratanpur is also referred to as Chhaturyugi Nagari since it is believed to be have existed during all the four ages.
Lord Shiva and Goddess Mahamaya are the two most sought after and worshipped deities of the Chhattisgarhis. Needless to say, both these Gods go by several names and Ratanpur is most famed for its ancient Mahamaya temple established by Ratandev I. Legend has it that when Ratandev came to Manipur on a hunting expedition from his village of Tuman, he rested a night under a Vat Vriksh, the knowledge tree. He was stunned and in an entranced state when he saw a bright glow fill the place near the tree. When he came out of the daze, he is believed to have seen the form of Goddess Mahamaya addressing a gathering. He returned to his native village Tuman but decided that he would come back to Manipur, make it his empire and build a Temple for the Goddess near the Vat tree. Thus the temple was established in 1050 as a huge complex that houses other deities as well. Goddess Mahamaya in the temple is believed by the natives, to be a very powerful goddess who will bestow upon her worshippers happiness by fulfilling their wishes. The nine days of Navratri culminating in Dussera, are celebrated with great fervour in the temple which sees a flow of huge crowds from all over Chhattisgarh and neighbouring states.
The temple complex houses temples for other Gods and Goddesses, all of which are beautiful for the sheer carvings they hold aloft. Like most temple areas, MAhamaya precincts, rather the entrance to its portals is lined with hawkers and peddlers vending their array of goods from eats to toys and all things “godly”. Though trying as it might be, o shake these pursuers who are intent on palming off their wares on you if you are gullible enough, I cannot deny that they add colour and adventure to our experience. Marie is fascinated by the henna blocks and gets her palms printed with ethnic Indian motifs and proudly exhibits it around, a sense of achievement writ all over her face.
We visit the Mahalakshmi Temple, atop a hillock, built during the period of King Ratandev III. Our interest in this temple is kindled while we are yet at the Mahamaya temple where the priests tell us that this temple is of great significance during Navratri time when it comes alive with wheatgrass sprouts and lights, offered by ladies to have their wishes fulfilled. So up we begin climbing even as the heat is sweltering. The view from the top of the hillock is bewitching, even though it is only green that we majorly see.
The pujari guides us to a small sized hall, more appropriately a plain rectangular room in which are arranged rows of lights and pots containing wheat grass saplings. The lights, the priest explains are symbolic of light dispelling darkness, of man emerging from ignorance to enlightenment through gaining knowledge. “The wheatgrass represents Annapurna and is symbolic of manna – the bread or food on which we live and survive. So we worship the wheatgrass in thanksgiving and pray for a good crop so that there is no want and no human being who goes hungry. At the end of the nine-day period of Navratri we perform visarjan (immersing in a water body) of the wheatgrass. The exercise is essentially done for both individual good and for world peace.”
We wind off our trip to Ratanpur with a visit to the Hazrat Moose Khan Mosque and the ruins of a palace, the Badal Mahal, which lies truly in ruins with a couple of wall segments here and there and thick shrub growth. The anemic sun is sinking through the sky which is slowly turning a muddy red. The cowherds are driving home their cattle and Marie and I feel a sense of deep satisfaction, as we return to base learning a little more about this land, Chhattisgarh, the existence of which we barely knew some months ago; and even if I did know it existed, I had foolishly dismissed it to the back of the beyond, unaware of its enormous wealth in terms of cultural heritage.
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