#khmertemple

by: Genie

Ensconced in the rainforest and steeped in centennial mythology, lies the province of Siem Reap, home to the variegated archaeological extravaganza embodied by Angkor, the old seat of the Khmer Empire. Once shrouded in mystery, this verdant area is dotted far and wide with architectural wonders, however a particular quartet of magisterial temple complexes, open to the public today, accounts for much of its widely deserved mystique: Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, Preah Khan and Ta Prohm.

The historical promenade through Cambodian history could not begin at a better place than Angkor Wat. After a brisk, vertiginous walk over the frontal moats and their tall lily pads by way of the “floating” bridges, Angkor Wat starts etching its “mountainous”, verdigris contours on the horizon, in all its pomp and pageantry. Some tall palm trees here and there, wandering rhesus monkeys, endless meters of loggias reflecting over the water, and monks clad in orange walking back and forth, act as merely the castellated gateway and battlements to King Suryavarman II’s main, multi-story building and its five signature turrets set against a perennial twilight sparkle.

Given the magnitude of this World Heritage structure, it would take more than one afternoon to visit it properly. Suffice it to say, to this day Angkor Wat is the largest standing religious building in the world. Still and all, its essence is to be found primarily in a threefold enigma. First of all, it is per se rather puzzling that Angkor Wat should be originally consecrated to none other than the Hindu divinity Vishnu. Today, Angkor Wat is both Hindu and Buddhist, but considering that Hinduism is not as geographically widespread as Buddhism from India eastwards and that it is an older religious philosophy, it begs a more in-depth question as to what exactly happened. Hence, the (originally and equally) Hindu Ko Samut Teuk Dos legend, also known as Samudra manthan (in Hindi); in other words, The Churning of the Ocean of Milk.

According to this founding epic, Devas (Gods) and Asuras (Demons) were forever at war to dominate the world. Ever more tired and running out of strength, the Devas asked Vishnu for help. As a token for his help, Vishnu asked the Devas to search for Amrita, the Sacred Elixir of Immortality, from the depths of the cosmos. However, because the task was so difficult, the Devas were forced to ally with their antagonists, the power-voracious Asuras. Using Mount Meru as the pivotal point and the King of the Nagas (snakes), Vasuki, as a churning device, both factions placed themselves at different extremities of the Naga and started pulling, while many treasures emerged from the Ocean of Milk. In time, the Asuras, being closer to the head of the Naga, were eventually poisoned by the fumes it exhaled, only managing to save themselves when Amrita was delivered to them by a divinity emerging from the Ocean of Milk. This episode did not go unnoticed by the Devas; they promptly informed Vishnu, who managed, in turn, to steal back Amrita and hand it to the Devas, so that they could reign supreme and banish the Asuras to hell.

This legendary tale represents the second enigma of Angkor Wat, and is virtually “unlocked” in the impossibly beautiful bas-reliefs stretching along the 49 meters of the east gallery, a grand spectacle where what could have been remnants of muted pink, ochre, and terra-cotta hues can still be slightly discerned by the naked eye between carvings. Also unlocked within Angkor Wat is the third enigma, whereby a Naga princess wed the First King of Ancient Cambodia, giving rise to the Cambodian people or Khmer. In this respect, Angkor Wat has various massive balustrades in the shape of the seven-headed Naga, each head representing the seven “races” of the Naga people. A recurring theme in the Angkorian temples, the seven-headed Naga is part and parcel of Khmer cosmology, as are the Apsaras, the celestial dancing creatures whose main purview included entertaining royalty and divinities on earth with their perfunctory expressions.

The hypnotic tour through Khmer chronology continues between Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom, where a short pit-stop to the Baksei Chamkrong temple gives us a taste of what would seem to be yet another enigma. According to various “conspiracy” theories, there are uncanny stylistic similarities between the Mayan Pyramid of the Great Jaguar (in Tikal, Guatemala) and Baksei Chamkrong! Clearly, the knowledge and discoveries acquired thus far on the matter are not enough to reframe history, so to say; nonetheless this testament to the universal aspect of human imagination makes for some quite fascinating journeys!

On its part, Angkor Thom, the last capital city of the Khmer Empire, boasts a masterpiece triad of its own, the first of such being King Jayavarman VII’s exquisite 350-meter long Terrace of the Elephants. Once a royal platform to salute his military forces, this terrace features intricate carvings of lions, elephants and Garudas, the bird-like creatures pertaining to Hindu, Buddhist and Jain mythology, and stalwart nemesis of the Nagas. Located just off the Royal Square is the Terrace of the Leper King. Although there was a king with leprosy in Cambodian history, the name derives mainly from the erosion found on the statue of Yama, the God of the Underworld, carved within this site. This terrace might have been used for funerary/cremation rites.

Perhaps the most distinctive temple in Angkor Thom is the “baroque” Prasat Bayon. Entering through the South Gate, one is confronted with nothing short of yet another enigmatic vision, as 200 towering giant faces (four per tower) look down on you with their seraphic smiles and sphinx-like countenances. Although it is unclear whether the faces depict Lokesvara (the Buddhist bodhisattva of compassion) or King Jayavarman VII, the two hypotheses do not necessarily exclude each other. While the bas-reliefs within the temple, portraying military scenes and other mundane events, are also worthy of note, the deeply rooted “intimidation/awe” deriving from the “scoping stares” remains the main highlight of the Bayon. For all we know, they might have been –and still are- quite a bulwark against the evil eye, if anything!

The eternal voyage of the Naga continues in the Neak Pean and Preah Khan temples, located north of Angkor Thom. Upon first impressions, and having to cross a long walkway on swampy waters before reaching the former, it is hard to believe that there might be a temple at the end of the glittering trail. However, Neak Pean juts out from a central sacred pool (believed to represent the mythical Lake Anavatapta and to have healing powers), surrounded by two “underwater” sculptures of the Naga. As regards the latter temple, it is the proof that nature (usually) claims –or ravages, in this case- back its own! At any rate, not even this inevitable and “vengeful” predicament has managed to cover up the ineffable magic of Preah Khan, home to Jayadevi (a sister-wife of King Jayavarman VII), among others. Moss, lychen and ferns slowly brush over the rubble and rickety beams framed by quasi-trompe l’oeil flourishes, while a vast array of delicate carvings, reliefs and friezes, not to mention the standing library ruins and stupa illuminated by the sun, complete this eerie, albeit paradoxically idyllic, setting on the green.

The encroaching nature and weathered look of Preah Khan, however, is solely a prologue to the real devouring power of the forest subsequently witnessed at Ta Prohm, the culminating phase of this open-air museum survey. As soon as Ta Prohm’s ruins are approached, the elusive footpaths give way to a stunning portrait of luxuriant foliage and creeping vines that lift as if they were deep-green shutters following each occasional waft of wind. Here, the Nagas and Apsaras have relinquished their leading roles to the true main protagonists, tetramelacea (tetrameles nudiflora), ficus strangulosa and ceiba pentandra (kapok), names that, given their peculiarity, would seem those of gods, but actually refer to gigantic trees. Their imposing barks have literally taken over the temple complex, coiling up the ruins like the Nagas themselves… or is it that the trees are living vicariously through the Nagas and viceversa? Alas, not even Lara Croft could have possibly deciphered this last enigma, bound to live on for the centuries to come! But, like Lara Croft’s alter-ego, we shall return…