A NEW poem by Alan Riach, based on a recent visit to India.

Bishnupur is a town in West Bengal. There are around 20 terra cotta temples there, built in the 17th and 18th centuries by the Vaishnavite Malla rulers. Each is unique, with different structures and shapes, and different designs on the outer walls, depicting episodes from the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, the life of Lord Krishna, and floral and geometric patterns. 

THE TEMPLES OF BISHNUPUR

Baked earth temples, where the fired 
body is porous.
How does this work? Monsoon rains drench all,
But there they are, that should have melted wet in the wash
And drained and dribbled away, solidified like candle wax,
But they stand in their various stalwart clay red forms,
Each one a sculpture, arcs and arched doorways, outer walls
Of small framed panels, depicting: Ganesh, Siva, Varuna, men
And women, carriages and animals, cows and collocations
Of the visible world, elephants engaged in the act of coition,
Mounted, each panel an astonishment, hundreds of them,
On each side wall. One temple’s roof’s a pyramidal lift
Of straight diagonal lines, converging; another’s is as swift
A symmetrical curve as a scimitar’s blade, four curves,
Balanced; another’s uses square shapes; all are brazen,
Terra cotta red, and smell of cold earth. The air is wet and warm.
My guides and I walk round and enter them, slowly, one
After another, until enough’s enough. My head bowed
For the low arch, entering, I hear a voice, ‘Be careful
For the snakes.’ I’ve seen the birds and bats. ‘The snakes?’
‘These temples are old. Their shadows are cool. There are
Snakes, sometimes. Be careful.’ Gods bless the observant,
Those who take care and precaution. And time. Thunder rolls.
We take our bodies back to the car, our porous thoughts
Holding what we can, keeping things in balance and momentum, slow.