Borobudur

There are some places in the world that defy words. Borobudur - the largest buddhist temple in the world, is one such place. Suffice it to say that its scale is stupendous, the artistry extravagant, the imagination that guided the climbing of each successive tier leading from a life of kama and moha to the ultimate realisation or enlightenment, absolutely inspired. We walked the steep steps to the last highest level, conscious, wondering, and silent.

Prambanan

We reached the temple complex of Prambanan when the evening was turning a golden shade, the searing temperatures had mellowed, and the air shone with mirror clarity. Our drive was accompanied by a view of the majestic Mt. Merapi - a very active volcano on outskirts of Yogya, breathing out its smoky breath into the intense blue evening sky.

The temples of Prambanan were built in the 10th century by the powerful Mataram kings, and are the greatest hindu monument in Java. The temples are dedicated to the hindu trinity Brahma, Vishnu, Mahesh and are each accompanied by a smaller temple dedicated the vehicles Hamsa, Garuda, Nandi. Most of the temples were destroyed by a series of natural disaters and are still in process of being painstakingly reconstructed towards their original grandeur.

My Sisters and I...

We sped on four motorcycles, my sisters and I, climbing steadily in early hours, braced by chilly wind, a suggestion of soft drizzle, inadequately clothed in windcheaters and sweats, big, stupid grins pasted on our faces. We were having a time of our lives. No husbands, kids, families, cares, worries, responsibilities, duties... in fact, no nothing! We were in Java to celebrate my 50th birthday and had immediately transformed into our childlike states. We were busy playing, having fun.

On that particular day, we were racing to visit the ancient hindu temple sites of Candi Ceto and Candi Sukh situated on the slopes of Mt. Lawu, outside Solo. The setting of the temples was spectacular within mist-hung mountains, with temples being organised in various levels culminating at the top in a flat pyramid structure. A lot of the imagery, as often is the case in Hindu sculpting of bygone eras, was charged, erotic, leading to many an exchanged glance, wiggled eyebrows, uproarious laughter. Here are some photos!

Climbing Mt. Bromo

In many ways I identify with a volcano. I am aware of the smoldering fires that rage inside, the occasional eruptions, the destruction, the long periods of dormant relief. I believe that we all hide these unquenchable fires within us - afraid to acknowledge our hidden volcanoes, the latent energy, fire, power.

Volcanoes dot the length of Java's spinal cord, some extinct, some dormant but with boiling cauldrons, some very recently, very active. I got a sense of Java's fires flying down its length recently.

Of all the volcanoes in Java, Mt.Bromo is the most famous, at least amongst the tourist circles. I still remember the first photo I saw of Mt. Bromo - a volcano emerging out of a sea of ashes, golden in the early morning light. It seemed a world lofty and high, fuming with internal fires hidden deep inside. And, one could climb Mt. Bromo, lean over its burning heart to glimpse this molten heat, the power, a core that kept this world alive, and us kicking.

We arrived to find that Mt. Bromo was one of three eruptions within an original volcano crater that covered a ten square km area and was now part of the Bromo-Tengger-Semeru National park. Our hotel was perched right on the rim of this volcanic crater giving us a view of the Bromo-Bartok-Kursi peaks across a sea of ashes beginning right under us. Temperatures were freezing when we arrived and the trek next morning started at 3:30am under a full moon.

What we saw and experienced was a walk with spectacles beyond compare. These photos below hold barest hints of what it was like to be there!