Moving on to Madurai

Late in the afternoon yesterday (Wednesday) we stepped off the bus across from a pillared colonnade which we had learned marked the outer entryway to a Hindu temple complex. Ahead of us down the pedestrian walkway lined with shops, smaller temples and wedding halls we could see the looming gopura, the colorful tower covered with figures of Hindu gods and goddesses that serves as a gate to the Vishnu Hindu temple beyond.

We actually weren't headed to the temple (however fascinating it might have been to visit) but instead to a Veda school just around the corner where young Brahmin boys, ages nine to twenty-six, spent five years learning the Veda, sacred texts passed down through the ages, in preparation for becoming Hindu priests.

We shucked our shoes at the door to a kind of gathering hall where the guys had lockers and would later return to chant for hours at a time. Further down the narrow alley was another hall where the younger boys waited patiently for the session to get underway. We visited both halls and asked questions, both of the priests-in-training and of our guide, prior to listening to several minutes of chanting before returning to our bus.

The whole experience was really quite unworldly. The young men, their long hair pulled back into knots at the back of their heads, wore yellow lungi and horizontal white markings on their faces, arms and bare chests. Yet they were not at all overly serious or solemn but lively, forthcoming and curious about our interest in them, willingly posing for photographs and talking with us freely about themselves, their schooling and their future expectations.

The Vedas they were learning date back several thousand years and must have sounded much the same when chanted by Hundu priests all those centuries ago. Here were the twenty-first century priestly inheritors of a faith tradition thousands of years old, many carrying a family tradition forward into yet another generation – and we were witnesses to that transmission. Wow!

Earlier in the afternoon, after our air flight's arrival in Madurai, we visited Thirumalai Nayaka, a huge palace at the heart of the city. Only about a fifth of its original size, it still made quite an impression. We spent much of our visit looking up at the ornate ceilings and crenelations all around the walls.

Before catching our flight, earlier in the day, we returned to view the Mamallapuram sculptured bas reliefs in better light and another nearby set depicting everyday life in stone carvings from the seventh century.

Enroute to the airport in Chennai, we also barged in on an Indian wedding and ended up having our pictures taken with the bride and groom. The Indians are wonderfully laid back and tolerant of us foreign visitors – and we take advantage of that tolerance every chance we can get!