Isn't it strange how some things never change and some things will never be the same?
On Thursday, I visited my second group of cave temples. Ajanta is much farther away from Aurangabad than Ellora (103 km as opposed to 36 km--took a little over two hours to get there) and consists of 30 Buddhist caves all carved into the side of a cliff. From the outside as a whole, I think the Ajanta caves seem more impressive since they are all high on the same cliff face right next to each other, looking down into a valley where waterfalls cascade over their edges during monsoon season. Ellora is more spread out, so one does not get the same feeling of complete awe. On the inside though, I was rather more impressed by Ellora with its towering stone carvings of gods and goddesses. Ajanta is more well-known for its paintings, and what remained of these were beautiful, but they are much disintegrated. Sher-Gil wrote, "A fresco from Ajanta or a small piece of sculpture in the Musee Guimet is worth more than the whole Renaissance!" I can see these figures in Ajanta in her work, but I wonder how different her Ajanta is from my Ajanta, nearly 80 years older than hers. How much have these paintings changed since she saw them?
It is amazing that the paintings are still here at all. I enjoy visiting historic sites like Ajanta and Ellora because I can feel the continuity between the past and the present. What always drew me to history was feeling tied to the past, feeling like I am a part of something bigger than myself. History allows us to feel a closeness with each other simply because of our existence as people. People painted these caves and lived in them and worshiped in them. They had hopes and dreams and trials and losses just the same as we do. We are all connected. And in this way it is impossible not to feel moved by Ajanta and tied to Sher-Gil.
In Delhi, I was surprised at how quickly things came back to me. I would find myself answering people in Hindi phrases that I forgot I knew, and not even realizing what I was saying until after I said it. I found myself returning to old habits and finding places to be like I never left them. However, it is this lack of change that reminds me how different things actually are, as I am so changed. As much as we would like to and maybe even try to relive our memories, we cannot, and we must create new ones to appreciate equally as much.
The part of Ajanta that struck me most was the brilliant blue that remained in some of the designs of the caves. While most of the other colors had faded, this blue still seemed to glow as brightly as if it were painted but a few weeks ago. I hope to use this blue in later paintings. I suppose the key to a happy memory is to find the common thread that runs through our experience, just like this blue.
On Thursday, I visited my second group of cave temples. Ajanta is much farther away from Aurangabad than Ellora (103 km as opposed to 36 km--took a little over two hours to get there) and consists of 30 Buddhist caves all carved into the side of a cliff. From the outside as a whole, I think the Ajanta caves seem more impressive since they are all high on the same cliff face right next to each other, looking down into a valley where waterfalls cascade over their edges during monsoon season. Ellora is more spread out, so one does not get the same feeling of complete awe. On the inside though, I was rather more impressed by Ellora with its towering stone carvings of gods and goddesses. Ajanta is more well-known for its paintings, and what remained of these were beautiful, but they are much disintegrated. Sher-Gil wrote, "A fresco from Ajanta or a small piece of sculpture in the Musee Guimet is worth more than the whole Renaissance!" I can see these figures in Ajanta in her work, but I wonder how different her Ajanta is from my Ajanta, nearly 80 years older than hers. How much have these paintings changed since she saw them?
It is amazing that the paintings are still here at all. I enjoy visiting historic sites like Ajanta and Ellora because I can feel the continuity between the past and the present. What always drew me to history was feeling tied to the past, feeling like I am a part of something bigger than myself. History allows us to feel a closeness with each other simply because of our existence as people. People painted these caves and lived in them and worshiped in them. They had hopes and dreams and trials and losses just the same as we do. We are all connected. And in this way it is impossible not to feel moved by Ajanta and tied to Sher-Gil.
In Delhi, I was surprised at how quickly things came back to me. I would find myself answering people in Hindi phrases that I forgot I knew, and not even realizing what I was saying until after I said it. I found myself returning to old habits and finding places to be like I never left them. However, it is this lack of change that reminds me how different things actually are, as I am so changed. As much as we would like to and maybe even try to relive our memories, we cannot, and we must create new ones to appreciate equally as much.
The part of Ajanta that struck me most was the brilliant blue that remained in some of the designs of the caves. While most of the other colors had faded, this blue still seemed to glow as brightly as if it were painted but a few weeks ago. I hope to use this blue in later paintings. I suppose the key to a happy memory is to find the common thread that runs through our experience, just like this blue.
