When stone statues whisper

My husband Alex and I were in Siem Reap, Cambodia, and one of the sites that we wanted to see was the temple complex of Bayon. So one sunny December morning we boarded a tuktok from 1961, an art gallery-cum-B&B, and our kind driver let us off in the eastern entrance of the temple, the better to have an overall feel of the place, he said.

 

Bayon was constructed right at the center of Angkor Thom during the end of the 12th and the end of the 13th centuries by the Buddhist king Jayavarman VII. The temple was built with a main gate facing east, and based on the principles of Mahayana Buddhism. There was an outer gallery, then a raised inner gallery; and finally an elevated upper terrace where stone towers stood, depicting colossal faces of the Buddha. Legend had it that these Buddhas (called the Avalokiteshvara, or the bodhisattva of compassion) looked like the king himself, perpetuating the myth that he descended from Buddhist royalty. His successors though were Hindus, so after King Jayavarman VII’s death, many statues in Bayon were destroyed, and in their stead Hindu symbols and deities were added. 

 

Standing at the entrance we saw stone nagas —mythical many-headed serpents arranged in a fan, and free-standing garudas, which were mythological figures that were part-man and part-eagle. A short stone steps later and we reached the perimeter of the outer galleries, whose walls had already collapsed, with only skeletal frames remaining. Strewn about were broken stones and what seemed to be ruined parts of the temple.   

 

Bas-reliefs adorned the stone walls, and these were very intricate carvings depicting Khmer warriors on the march, generals leading them on elephants, war processions, and scenes of daily Khmer life: a busy marketplace, a woman tending to an invalid, a fish seller, and so many other detailed carvings. We lost our sense of time as we closely scrutinized the minute but exquisite etchings on the walls.

 

We proceeded to the inner galleries, which was an area enclosed by the outer galleries. Along the way I noticed a special room where a large stone phallic lingam stood, and a few meters away, a stone Buddha, in front of which were innumerable offerings of joss sticks, their fragrantly pungent smoke filling the small space. 

 

The inner gallery somehow was very narrow, and space had been taken by the upper terraces. On its walls though were beautiful renditions of Hindu mythology, Vishnu, Shiva and Brahma, and my favorite of all, the dancing apsaras. They were curvaceous and slim dancing women, their arms and legs in graceful poses. Devatas too, were depicted: these were women who simply stood, smiling and tranquil. 

 

It was there within the enclosure of the inner galleries when I suddenly looked up and espied the rocky towers that bore the Buddha faces. They looked very calm, and serene. Looking for the access to the upper terrace, we wove through maze-like passageways, through-and-through temple areas, tight corners, and finally, a bright, sun-lit corner where a slim ladder was pushed against the roof of the gallery, leading to the upper portion of the temple. 

 

I eyed the makeshift wooden ladder that swayed each time someone clambered up with much chagrin. I initially thought I’d just stay and wait for Alex at the lower galleries, but he encouraged me on, saying the ladder had withstood the weight of heavier visitors. Finally, the desire to see the Buddhas nudged me forward and I gingerly put a foot up into the first step. The ladder swayed with my weight, but mercifully the wooden planks held, and we found ourselves on the upper terraces.

 

Bright sun, blue skies, and all the Buddha faces that we could see, and almost touch! Scholars said that originally there were around 300 faces, carved in all sides of the stony towers. Time took its toll, and many became eroded, being exposed to the elements all these centuries. Some, especially the most revered central stone Buddha was destroyed by Jayavarman’s successors, but it was said that all the pieces were found inside a well in the temple. The monks then tried to painstakingly put the statue back, piece by piece, until it was again whole. The original pieced-together statue was now in a museum. 

 

Walking around the upper terraces and looking at the Buddha faces closely I seemed to have glimpsed a little glint in their smiling eyes, and felt that they were all looking at me at the same time even as I moved around. It could have been the noonday sun, and the heat and humidity, but suddenly it was as if I heard, emanating from the lips of one of the huge Buddha head, a sound, gentle and soft. I could not really understand the words, but they sounded like a chant. The hairs on my nape stood up, and I shivered, in spite of the heat. I stopped in my tracks, and suddenly a sense of deep sorrow came up, and the need to weep, and weep uncontrollably overtook me. I had to take deep breaths, and Alex was looking at me quizzically, and asked if I was all right. That broke the spell. Suddenly the cloud in my mind lifted, and I was brought back to reality. I looked around, and saw that the faces were still there, but no longer looking at me, their smiles now less personal, and I was registering the other visitors to the place as well. 

 

Alex laughed when I told him about the strange experience, saying that it could be hunger, as it was way past our usual lunch time. I looked back at that experience with an open mind, knowing that so many things in this world could never be explained by logic. It was enough that we were under the bright sky in Siem Reap, being transported back to the 12th century, and standing there with the Buddha faces of Bayon. —KG, GMA News