When I went to Hoysala temple, the first thing which captured my mind was it’s thousand year old beautifully sculpted Gatekeeper.
Hands down! It was the most beautiful sculpture which I ever saw. It was broken but seemed to be alive and I decided to write a poem on this thousand year old Gatekeeper.
The Guardian of Hoysala – My watch never ends!
A hundred dynasties rose into power and fell,
But I stand in line, performing endless duty.
I am silent, yet I have a hundred stories to tell,
By eye-witnessing a thousand year history.
I was born to guard and protect the Gods,
Hoysaleshwara Temple is under my watch.
I defend the temple gate against all odds,
And strive to keep its security top-notch.
A hundred chiseled hands gave me birth,
A hundred artists filled life in my eyes.
Sweat of several sculptors gave me worth,
Due to which my fame touched the skies!
I am the divine Gatekeeper of Hoysala,
Standing in Tribhanga pose, day and night!
I guard the temple of Hoysaleshwara,
And strive to prove my loyalty and might.
My intricate jewellery stunned everyone,
Weapons were placed in my strong hand.
The Gatekeeper of Hoysala fears no one,
And will loyally protect its sacred land.
Being a King was never in my destiny,
Yet those kind sculptors gave me a crown!
They made me a royal without ceremony,
And set me high, where stars looked down!
Those were days of prosperity and peace,
Hoysala kingdom forced culture to flourish.
Every sculptor strived to create masterpiece,
Thinking that his art won’t ever vanish.
After two hundred years of peaceful time,
Hoysaleshwara Temple attracted evil eyes.
Sultan Allaudin Khalji was in his prime,
And planned to take everyone in surprise.
Malik Kafur laid siege with his large forces,
Looting Hoysaleshwara Temple was his wish.
He attacked with thousand Arabic horses,
Thousand innocents got killed in skirmish.
Evil people attacked me and broke my arms,
How could someone hate sculpture like me?
It took years for sculptors to build my arms,
But it took only few minutes to cripple me.
I didn’t shed a tear when they broke my arm,
Without any hands, I tried to defend Hoysala.
I wanted to save temple from all the harm,
And prove my loyalty to Lord Hoysaleshwara.
Everywhere I looked, I saw only plunder,
Pure plunder of extraordinary large scale.
Earlier I used to hear temple-bell’s thunder,
But that day, I heard only the widows’ wail.
I wished they could have broken my ears,
At that moment when they broke my hand.
I wished I couldn’t hear a hundred tears,
From a thousand innocents of my land.
Thousands were killed irrespective of age,
Even the little children were not spared.
Suddenly I felt my blood boiling with rage,
They wanted to see my land getting ill-fated.
I thought that they would also kill me,
And destroy my every single part.
Still my brain never dared to run free,
Even if they tore my heart apart.
Every part of mine wanted to lose breath,
And wanted to rest under Kalpataru tree.
I never feared the thought of brutal death,
Nobody on earth is capable to scare me.
But the thought of meeting those sculptors,
Who now rest in heaven, trembled me.
I wanted to live for those diligent sculptors,
Who toiled in sweat all days to create me.
Lord Shiva always fulfills sincere desire,
And through His holy blessings, I survived.
Old Indian Art now shines like true fire,
Through me, the soul of sculptors survived.
Today, I have survived for thousand years,
I am the testimony of power of construction.
I will spread truth in both of the hemispheres,
That construction will always beat destruction.
Hoysaleshwara Temple gate is where I belong,
I welcome you without arms, but with words.
Look at me and decide what’s truely strong,
The hands with chisels or the ones with swords?
