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This piece is Part 2 in a three-part short story series. You may read Part 1 of the Thai Chronicles here.
Ayutthaya - Phra Mae Thorani
According to Suresh Pal Giri, an Indian professor in Thailand, when Burmese soldiers overran this city (Ayutthaya) in the 18th century, a new King rose:
He called himself Rama I, established the city now known as Bangkok, wrote the epic Ramakien, which is Ramayana in the local language, making it the national epic, and got it painted as murals on the walls of the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, patronised by the royal family, it is believed. Though he was a Buddhist, the king established his royal credentials by identifying himself with Lord Ram, who was as much a hero for Buddhists of Southeast Asia as he was for the Hindus of South Asia.
Shodashi started fidgeting.
She could not wait for her meeting to end… she was back in Hyderabad and wanted to check her photos from Ayutthaya… she had a strong hunch… and now she wanted to make sure… she knew it in her heart, the statue had moved.
She started scrolling back frantically to November… this was what, February? God, not even three months and look at how many photos she had clicked… all because of the digital age! She remembered her childhood: forget a camera, even a music system was a rarity in many households. And then she got one for topping her boards. She had been so excited to hold a camera in her hands, the visual always appealed to her first. Before all else, beauty was sundaram, which was her shivam, shaantam, and advaitam. Even today she could admire beauty, be lost in it, even if that beauty lay in an opponent, beauty was sacred. And so she had wanted to put her camera to good use and capture all the beauty of the world, well India to start with, rather rural India because that is where she had always lived.
But her parents and India’s 80s economy had disabused her of her high dreams. Film rolls were expensive, and the camera, although a present, as always like everything else, belonged to the whole family, the extended joint family, distant cousins, and the neighbours too! They had the first right of use for their birthday parties. Of course, in 80s India, one shared every material good one had with everyone around.
It had come as a shock to Shodashi when she had first learnt that she had committed a crime by borrowing audio cassettes from friends for recording a list of ‘Best of 1989’ songs from them, apparently the songs were copyrighted, what indeed was that?
Well anyway, the physical film rolls all of twenty-six, if one was lucky, had to be planned ahead of time: one click for this visual at this time and with this frame. Such meticulous organizing made one ponder and prepare for that one second of precise action, it made one good at visualizing a scene, and clicking at the golden hour while holding one’s breath.
Look now, she had gotten into reminiscing and she was still in January… she had to scroll back until November last year! Why were there so many photos from January? Oh yes! Jan 22nd, 2024 Ayodhya had happened, and her phone seemed to have nothing but those pictures and videos, but she was looking for a different Ayutthaya.
Finally… yes, yes there it is… hmm… Oh! Wow… I knew it, I knew it!!
The Statue That Moved had an all knowing smile and her left hand was up adjusting her luscious hair and her torso turned to the left of screen in photo #34 at 3.44pm in the afternoon, while the The Statue That Moved had turned her torso to the right and was in the centre of screen facing Shodashi in photo #35 at 3.52 pm. Oh! Thank god, thank god for my obsession with taking pictures and love of beauty. She remembered how mesmserized she had been with this wholesome statue. The shilpi who had carved Thorani must have been blessed by the gods. He had carved the curves so elegantly, so proportionately that Shodashi had found it irresistible and had stood there transfixed for a long long time, just taking it all in.
But now, she knew that the goddess-like radiance was because the deity was indeed a goddess, and she had smiled at Shodashi in a mischievous manner - all caught on camera - at Ayutthaya, Thailand.
Another Ayodhya? Cannot be! Another Lanka! Really? Certitude is a must in life and stability essential for the flowering of human potential. This was disturbing news. As disturbing as when Shodashi first discovered that Rama was not Ramudu and Krishna was not Krishnudu, and that they did not speak Telugu and did not look like NTR. Impossible! It was unimaginable to think that Krishna spoke in Hindi or any of its dialects… it did not sound correct… her whole childhood would be a travesty then, but then one grows up to face facts.
Well, now that she knew, it could not be undone.
She had to go to the Thai Ayodhya i.e. Ayutthaya.
Her first visit had been en route to Angkor Wat/Siem Reap. Now with the World Hindu Congress in Bangkok, here was her chance. Her new-found conference friend had come in two days earlier from Hong Kong and had done two tours with other attendees. These were cheap, safe, and with vegetarian fare, she had added.
“You should have come early, Shodashi, you would have loved the tours, we were about thirty of us from different countries, and it was wonderful to meet everyone, break the ice so to speak before the conference… I personally loved the Bang Pa-In Palace… There was a lot of walking to do of course… Especially the next day at Chachoengsao… At the Ganesha International Park…”
Shodashi had missed doing that, deliberately though, as there is something to be said about travelling alone, figuring out about places and people without being herded. Her pace her own, her time her own, and what she priced most, her company her own. Well, at least most days.
Amma had given her a tough time about staying back post the WHC conference. It is not possible to hide anything these days from anyone, all one has to do is go to WA or Google to unearth facts! Shodashi had told her mother that she needed to research and write on the Hindu history of Thailand, all of which was true, and since the ticket was paid for anyway, why not take this time to stay put, instead of rushing back. Reluctantly, her mother had acquiesced.
If Shodashi had said I am staying back because I want to visit the ancient city of Ayutthaya 74 kms north of Bangkok, to find echoes of Rama 3,500 kilometres away from Ayodhya, she was sure she would have had to cancel her whole trip, work or no work. A mother’s displeasure can be such.
“How come for work trips in India you go with colleagues and research associates, but to go abroad you are sent alone?” A mother’s probing can be equally astute.
Today is the day then. A hot shower in the tiny bathroom and a sumptuous breakfast - all vegetarian, thanks to the kind lady chef who was extremely considerate - coconut milk and rice dumplings, freshly cut medley of dragon fruit, kiwi, papaya, and melons, along with warm bread and white butter, ah! noodles, too. Gulping down the hot tea, Shodashi gathered her backpack, having spotted the taxi outside the hotel lobby from the cafeteria window.
This man had turned out to be a cheat, on the first day itself when he bulldozed her into paying 500 baht for a 350 baht trip from Nonthaburi to Sathorn, refusing to put on the taxi meter or to take her on normal roads, while he continued on the highway which she had wanted to avoid.
Shodashi had wanted to see the country and its people more. But soon she sweet talked him by asking him about Thai people, their favourite places, their culture, and he had relented. When he briefly turned around while stuck in traffic and asked her, ‘Are you Buddha?’ She had been taken by surprise, but without missing a beat had replied, ‘Yes I am Buddha!’ Well I most certainly would like to be, this whole quest is for that isn’t it, thought Shodashi. To know. To be awakened. To be Buddha.
He had offered to take her to and fro from Phra Nakhon Si Ayutthaya, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, for 1200 baht and it was not a bad deal. Although the hotel lobby was also offering tours for 1200 and it came with a van, food, and they had included a lot more temples and palaces in that amount; but she had wanted her ‘me’ time - after attending the WHC conference with people, people, and more people, she really needed to hear herself breathe. Alone. Another day with strangers, answering cursory queries was not her idea of a Thai holiday or Hindu work.
He came promptly at 7.00 am as promised, she saw him standing by the taxi as she licked off her spoon that was dripping with the delicious Bua Loy, a Thai pudding she had grown to love the past three days. Shodashi kept her spoon down, taking in the vapours from the Earl Grey. And she sipped a little of her favourite tea, before she rushed out with her backpack.
She got into the car with a nod and looked about eagerly, she felt safe. The lobby receptionist had seen her taking off with him, so the driver would be foolish to pull a wrong stunt, and anyway Thailand was generally safe. A monarchy which followed the lead of its able rulers. As long as she was dressed modestly, said the right things, and bowed down to the King and Buddha respectfully, she would be fine.
Plus the driver and her guide for today knew that she had come for the WHC conference and not for anything untoward like some other tourists who proliferate this beautiful country for the wrong reasons. Perceptions matter, although we fight it all our lives. And then we grow into mature adults when we stop trying to prove the perceptions wrong. Or use perceptions to our advantage. Anyway, now it was too late, she had hired him for the day and rest was in Rama’s hands. Shodashi felt that since she spoke toHanuma daily, she had a direct line to Rama. Maybe it was true or maybe it was simply her perception.
This ancient city which flourished as the Siamese capital from the 14th to 18th century C.E., built by King U Thong or Ramathibodi I to commemorate Ayodhya and Rama Rajya, lies ahead of her, sprawling. It took them about an hour or so on the highway north of Bangkok. The population is sparse and the speeds slow in this part of the world. The old city and its ruins form the Ayutthaya Historical Park now, and the city itself is simply gorgeous. Neat, well planned, well kept. aesthetically pleasing, and very welcoming. It reminded her of Siem Reap in many ways; the easy pace, the ancient gaze, perhaps an improved version, only time will tell.
She took hours to explore the Wat Yai Chaimongkol Monastery of Victory complex; the reclining Buddha; and the Ubosot ordination hall; the towering prangs; and lastly, the grand memorial to King Naresuan with its many roosters. Legend has it that this King who grew up in erstwhile Burma, won a cockfight against the Burmese Prince, made an enemy of him, and eventually ended up wresting the Thai kingdom back from Burmese control. Ornamental roosters of all sizes and color, decorated with painted glass, dot the surroundings of his resting place, mementoes offered by a grateful public.
Shodashi’s admiration and reverie is interrupted by the many buses of Chinese tourists who throng the broad boulevards and force her to move on to the next temple on her itinerary.
A few more temples and she is tired now, but the list is endless. Fatigue has set in with a few constants; floating candles… incense… flowers… orchids… sacred threads… and rows and rows of Buddhas, big and small. Seeing her droop, the driver asks her if she wants to take a break for lunch. It is Tuesday and Shodashi does not eat today, good, says the taxi driver, no find veggie place.
Finally, they are on their way to visit the pièce de résistance that has brought in people from all over - the Buddha in the Tree. This is the Wat Phra Mahathat or the Temple of the Great Relic. Built in the 14th century by Borommaracha I and King Ramesuan; octagonal pagodas, royal halls, small temples, murals under a Bodhi tree, and the famous sand-stone Ayutthaya-style head of the Buddha in a tree’s root, all abound in this royal precincts.
Once she was done with the main sights, Shodashi entered the adjacent Bueng Phra Ram Park. By the canal Shodashi strolled, and strolled gently. Bridges, old growth trees, ruins, pathways, pagodas, hammocks by the lakeside. It was bucolic, idyllic.
She felt an instant connection. A cosy intimate connection that made her promise to herself that she would be back here, to spend more time, without a checklist or a deadline. If this is Ayutthaya, Hanuman and Rama are not far off, nor is Sita, she thought. Phra Ram lay yonder where the remnants of the founder king were buried.
And that is when she chanced upon a tree with hanging silk dresses. On a flat platform with three steps by the slow moving stream stood a gorgeous devi naked from waist up, her hands pulled back adjusting her tresses, that fell all the way to the ground. Her feet were in the tribhanga posture, and Shodashi felt a sudden rush of energy up to her sahasrara at this sight.
Something was written in Thai below the lifelike statue. Without her glasses she was illiterate. Luckily a young American couple, who she chanced upon, were also trying to decipher this mystery of the magical clothes.
They tell her that the sign on this statue says that this is Phra Mea Thoeeani… Phra or Preah she knew from Preah Vihear in Cambodia to mean sacred… ‘Thoeeani’ she needed to figure out… the young couple putter about a bit around the statue and leave with a shrug unable to crack the code or the logic of the hanging dresses.
Letting it sit, as per advice by her gurus, to allow a question to soak into her being, to be answered in its own time, Shodashi starts wandering about the vast grounds undisturbed. The gentle afternoon breeze allows her to keep her cool, the area empty of stray animals, no dogs nipping at her feet, young men and women minding their business, Shodashi is finally with herself and her thoughts… let the question marinade, the gurus had said… let it seep into your system… answers are right there… but they need to take root and flower at the appropriate muhurta.
She let it seed itself and continued to stroll. She smiled suddenly for no reason… alam bhaava took over… this is enough…
A young white girl sauntering similarly in yoga pants, and loose hair kissing her cheeks smiles back from across the canal, their laughing eyes meet and leave without an agenda… thoeeani… thoeeani… this was like a japa now! Did she spot a sign saying Phra Ram… that is where she must head to. Numerous temples dot the countryside… this is one of the few trips where she is not focussing on where and what food to eat next… she must travel more on fasting days… she tells herself.
She has no watch, her phone is out of charge as usual with all the photos and videos she has taken, and she does not want to delay going back. After all she is an hour or more from Bangkok, god knows how the traffic is in the evenings and tomorrow was her last day in Thailand, she better head back.
So Shodashi retraces her steps. Thoeeani… thoeeani… could it not be thorani… thorani… with a ‘ra’… going by phonetics it sounds just about right… If so the name must have a samskrtam root - ta or tha is usually interchangeable with da or dha, after all they originate from the same spot of the mouth except one is soft the other hard. So let us say we substitute the letters; ‘da’ or ‘dha’ for ‘ta’ and ‘tha’…so doeeani, dorani, dhorani? And maybe like the Bengalis, the Thais too pronounce an ‘o’ for an ‘a’… .hmm … do-dho or da-dha, +rani or +raani, could it be rani as in Queen? The statue she had witnessed in a state of repose was a queen for sure, a beautiful stone statue that could arouse even a human.
Dhoroni dhorani dharani, Dharani Dharani Dharani…of course….she is dharani… or perhaps she is Sita… one who is born of dharaa… vasundharaa… she of the earth, daughter of Bhudevi. The beloved wife of Shree Rama.
The statue did have all the auspicious signs of a major goddess, and the gorgeous location in the udyana seemed to transport Shodashi to the times of the Ramayana or Ramakien. This could have been during one of Sita’s 14 years of vanavasa, and she might have bathed in one such stream, and stepped out to dry her wet hair. Nothing else could explain the halo or the radiance around this particular statue.
So, they worship the earth goddess here! Lovely! Phra Mae Thorani’s long hair brushing off water, her round breasts large like mountain peaks, her whole being symbolizing abundance, fertility, riches and sustenance…
Shodashi runs all the way back to the statue, now that she has managed to decipher the enigma, she approaches it with a friendly camaraderie as though connecting with an old friend after years. These clothes hanging by the canal from a tree branch, very casually as though a clothes hanger in a wooden cupboard, must have been kept here by the pujari or whoever that dressed the deity daily. Or perhaps these are donations?
This is a live goddess, Shodashi sees signs of puja being conducted here - there is incense, there are fresh flowers, water, fruits, and the rest of the paraphernalia - she looks up to see Dharani looking down at her, smiling, acknowledging her name deciphered by Shodashi, and then she swivels her torso around to meet Shodashi face to face, before becoming still like a statue. The Statue That Moved!
No, no that cannot be. Shodashi knew she suffered from a hyper imaginative brain, so she scoffed at her own assumptions and shrugged off all belief.
Someone approaches from behind. Who is this? My, she is like a wow! Oh! ‘She is Dharani, the earth goddess’, replies Shodashi confidently. Oh! ok……cool! Can you spell that, I’ll check her out. Thanks. Do you mind if I take a few pictures? Shodashi laughs internally, who does he think I am, a priestess?
As the young man walks away with an exaggerated swagger as though to show off to the statue that has enchanted him, Shodashi feels a subtle movement. Dharani is quietly squeezing the last drop of water from her tresses, and then softly shifts her weight from one leg to another, as though tired of posing all day. She smiles at Shodashi and seeing her surprised and shocked, becomes still again.
No, not again. It cannot be. Why not, asks her heart, her brain answers with a sheesh, stop it.
Shodashi is in no mood to explore more palaces or temples after this. Let us go home, she says to the taxi driver. The Statue That Moved has removed all her wanderlust, for today.
On the way to Bangkok her wi-fi signal is back and she puts a Google Lens on the inscription. Yes, there it is, she was indeed Dharani: Mother Earth.
And as usual she has missed a series of texts from her sister Shambhavi, one of which reads:
Did you know Ayutthaya is an island formed by three sacred rivers of Chao Phraya, Pa Sak and Lop Buri, the holy waters from which, and whose sacred soil had been sent to Shree Rama’s Ayodhya in India. In solidarity with the prana pratishta that will be held on Jan 22nd 2024, after 500 long years of waiting and praying, of fighting and fending off invaders.
She had not slept much that day. After reaching the hotel, she had gone on rewinding her mind to Dharani’s face, her long hair, her swirls, her smile, her… it was almost dawn before sleep overtook Shodashi.
Looking at the photos of The Statue That Moved three months later in her home in Hyderabad, her hunch was proved right, yes it indeed had moved, and yes it indeed was alive. All Shodashi could manage saying was, ‘Jai Shree Rama’, to that.