JOIN USA paean to the sun at Badami
At daybreak, over Badami, the sun peeps over a low sandstone ridge to the east of the settlement, to wash the Agastya Tirtha tank and surrounding monuments with light. Each day, without fail, the rays of the morning sun play on the walls of a tiny cave on the base of a large boulder on the eastern bank of the Agastya Tirtha. Scarcely anyone notices the cave, leave alone this phenomenon. Hardly surprising, given the sheer magnitude and splendour of the Early Chalukyan monuments at Badami. At less than two metres wide, about a metre deep, and just over a metre high, the cave is dwarfed by the famous rock-cut temples, which were created by scooping out enormous volumes of rock from the cliffs. None of the published accounts of Badami, historical as well as recent, even mention this tiny cave.
But this is no mere experimental incision in the rock or an ill-planned architectural misadventure that was later abandoned. A close look reveals pilasters crowned by brackets carved along the inner vertical edges of the cave and beams along the upper, horizontal edges, indicating that this is indeed the final form envisaged by its creators. Strangely, though, there is no deity inside, or even a pedestal to hold one. Instead, on the rear wall of the cave is an ochre circle painted on a white backdrop. Evidently meant to symbolise the sun, this endorses the local story about the rays of the rising sun falling on the cave every day.
The boulder at the base of which this cave is carved, called Panchalinganaphadi, is situated to the southwest of the Bhutanatha group of temples. Two shrines from the 11th century perch precariously atop it, and on its south-eastern face, an image of Anantashayi Vishnu is enclosed in a single-celled shrine. Several sculptures, of deities and shrines, are carved in low relief on one of the faces of this rock, too.
Amidst such a surfeit of sculptural and architectural riches, the cave is understandably overlooked. But it had fascinated me since my very first visit to Badami, and the claim that sunlight falls on it every day whetted my curiosity. To test this out, I simulated an architectural model of the cave for solar illumination on the equinoxes as well as the solstices, after carefully measuring the dimensions and orientation of the cave. I found that, even during its extreme northerly and southerly risings during the solstices, the sun lights up at least part of the cave. The orientation of the cave – towards cardinal east, and its dimensions – wider than it is deep, ensures that this happens. Because the eastern horizon is obscured by a line of cliffs, the sun appears only when it clears this ridge, which makes the lighting up of the cave even more dramatic.
Unfinished carvings
Did the creators of this cave intend it to face the rising sun, or was this merely a chance orientation? An unfinished sculptural panel on another rock face, roughly 55 m southeast of the cave, offers a clue. The roughly-worked images are of Surya and Ganesha. Sun worship was popular in Badami during the Early Chalukyan rule during the sixth to eighth centuries CE, with temples like the Malegitti Shivalaya dedicated to Surya. One of the most evocative images of Surya is carved on a ceiling at the Virupaksha temple at Pattadakal, with the form of the deity standing with two lotus buds in his hands, similar to the unfinished image near the cave.
Was the partly carved image of Surya abandoned when the artisan conceived a sun-facing cave as a better, more innovative idea to pay homage to the sun? We will probably never know. But another image in the vicinity could be another piece in this jigsaw puzzle. Less than 25 m away to the southeast of the unfinished Surya image, is another large boulder, which was probably sheared off the cliff in some distant geological past. Leaning against another one, it creates a sort of grotto within. One has to literally crawl through a small opening to access the inside, where a seated figure is carved on the rear wall. The meditating figure sits on a simhasana, flanked by fly-whisk bearers.
A royal portrait
Scholars have debated the identity of this figure – with some identifying it as a Bodhisattva, while others maintaining it is a Jina. Henry Cousens, a renowned archaeologist opined that it is a royal portrait — a view endorsed by art and architectural historian Shrinivas Padigar too. In local legend, the image is called Koshtaraya (the leper king), and represents a king who contracted leprosy but was cured by bathing in the Agastya Tirtha.
There is a rich body of lore about Surya as a healer of leprosy. The sun temples at Multan and Konark are both believed to mark the spot where Samba, the son of Krishna, was cured of leprosy on praying to Surya, and bathing in the Chandrabhaga River. There is also the story of Mayura Bhatta, the seventh century Sanskrit poet who was similarly cured of leprosy and composed the Surya Satakam in praise of Surya.
The image of Koshtaraya could be commemorating the unknown king, who probably even lived in the same grotto, bathing in the nearby Agastya Tirtha and praying to Surya for deliverance from his affliction. Today, even centuries later, when the sun rises above the cliffs in the east every day, the little cave pays homage to his benefactor.
(The author is with the National Institute of Advanced Studies, Bengaluru)