The Tucumcari news and Tucumcari times. [volume] (Tucumcari, N.M.) 1907-1921, 1918-01-10

A BONE us the huge tower Of the
~ temple, n Of the six gopur-
~ ANS, tapcrs gradually upward.
covered with the incrustations
NJ Its myriad images. says Doctor
Dcnrmcr In the Manchester (England)
Guardian. Dark hued people In daz-
zllng colors swarm along the street,
the white lines Of vishnu or OF SILVA
cleaning on their foreheads under the
bright December sun and from the
street II stream passes continually
through the high gateway into the
dark arcade Of shops and great paint.
cd lmnges-the piers of this architec-
ture-through which one can dlmly
see passage beyond high passage, as
far as the vague hint of the shrine ut
the end Of this dark perspective.
There Is an hour In the year when
n beam from the rising sun pierces
til" whole long length through the
midst of the temple and strikes the
Image of the god SILVA Sundurcswar
In the depths of his Utmost sanctuary,
where none but llindus may ever en-
ter.
To pass through that first high but
gloomy passage into the precincts OF
the temple Itself is to travel back 5000
years. | feel TINT I shall never long
b." trnnsrlantcd into ancient Egypt
ngaln. | have been there, and l know
what 1t must have beer like.
Nor will the P%arthcnon be ever
ngnln to me IN empty ruin I can
Imagine II now as 1t was. only Greek
refinement instead Of Hindu COARSE
ness and excess. with the Greek beau
~ Of sculptured gods and ~goddesses
Instead Of the cruel. minatory gro
tesques Of this strange pantheon. /
can picture now what the ancient
r%uganisin was like, and how the
philosophers taught n thing while
the people fiercely believed another,
and how the common worship of the
crowd and the ancient i~mmemorinl
tradition drew the hearts Of the
philosophers In spite of themselves.
: Life and Traffic Ancient.
True, the architecture of this Indian
temple Is but II few hundred years
old; for most Hindu buildings are
modern compared with their faith.
Iut the spirit is ns old rs Egypt-the
half sinister air of mystery, and the
swnrms upon swarms of people,
crowding the vast corridors, passing
out into the sunshine under the paint
ed ~colonnadc round the square cXpanse
of bright green water, each seeking his
St,.siu1 py4l np.h ,,s,rSlfVG,y ,.I.r. Ita
fancy leads him. The people are dark
"r, TIVE pcrvndlng snell Is of melted
chi instead of incense. But II is the
life that Is the same, the life Of thou
sands who are here because all the
gods are real to theln-the women, for
Instance, who clasp thcir hands and
PROSTATE themselves when our guide
opens the doors which protect tho
Gildcd cars and subsidiary images
(slapplng them IA 'larly with his
hand.)
1t Is the life and the traffic that are
so real, so UNNECESSARILY old, from the
temple elephant, swaying To and fro in
II corridor that Is not the least dwnrfcd
ly him, To- the men who are chanting
NodaS by the tank, and the little naked
children turning sulcmnly round be-
cuuSe their parents do 81, and the
hundreds of drnwsy men who squat at
different boards on the floor selling
Curktrce flowers and other offerings
ior the gods.
Ruined temples smell of flowers. or
earth, vi desert sand, and are washed
clean and dried by nature. But this llv-
ing city Of columns smells of life, and
the stone pavement is soft with dirt /;
the weird carvings ARE obscured with
many layers Of solid whltewash or
blackened by greasy hands and hot
elbows; the sacred idols drip with oil
and are blackened also.
In the Heart Of the Temple.
One gigantic image especially no one
who has seen II Is likely TO forget. as Il
looms out, black and sticky, In the light
Of tive ilnring lamps (made as the
Greeks made lamps) that are held up
by two h~alf-naked servants. 1t Is Cane
sha, the ~good-natured elephant god. as
broad rs he Is long, but looking porten-
tous and horrible. his trunk lying
acros the huge protuberance of his
inhumanly human abdomen.
And the life of the temple is so real
because II Is also the life Of the city.
1t Is inwoven not only by the trsdi-
ton that In India Is literally timeless,
but by the customs Of every hour, and
by the heaviest Of all customs, caste.
At any hour the life Of the people may
be seen In epitome here, in the heart Of
the temple; three gaunt widows well
wrapped In their dull white saris are
squatting on the ground to feed a sleek
young Brahman clad In a loin cloth.