Ancient Asian Temple Gothic
Lets talk about ancient South Asian gothics.
- The moonlit stone temple calls to you. Only the clear night sky above lights the way as you wander. You feel drawn towards the inner sanctum by a sense of yearning. As every step brings you deeper into the heart of the temple, something crawls up your throat. A question? A wish? You do not know yet.
- You are far from the stone walls that run for miles around these sacred grounds. It is just you, the sounds of the lonely darkness, and the sense of being watched, judged.
- The long, dark shadows of centuries old columns seem to stretch deep within themselves. You have lost your gauge on time. There’s a sneaking feeling if you were to walk through the shadows you may keep walking for a lot longer than you should.
- The rough granite floor is still hot beneath your feet. But the blank, rounded eyes and coy smirks of the beautiful carved women set in stone makes you shiver. They seem to know something you don’t. something about you.
- Once inside the main sanctum, you touch a pillar. Your palm stretches across a carving of a lion chiselled into stone with such precision that the smooth and fine details have lasted ten centuries. It is also warm to the touch. You could have sworn no scorching sun could have touched this part of the pillar during the day. As you turn away, your hands slip off the carving and immediately goes cold.
- That which had crawled up your throat now claws at your tongue. You feel a desperate need to follow the tugging you feel towards the epicentre: the inner sanctum.
- Following the feverous pull towards the heart, you see light in the distance. The doorway to the inner sanctum is awash in a warm glow but you can’t see inside. The soft lamplight contrasts the cold moonlight on dark wind beaten stone.
- A large bell hangs from the ceiling. It has not been touched, but as you pass it, you can hear the soft residual ringing resonating. You feel it reverberating in your ribs.
- It seems forbidden to be here at a time like this. But it is not trepidation you feel, rather, revelation. The blanket of night over this ancient and sacred place seems to unfold reality itself, bringing you closer to answers and truths otherwise out of reach.
- The ten feet tall corridors built for heards of worshippers echo with the soft sounds of only your muted, bare footsteps.
- The once bright colours of the murals on the ceiling are peeling off. But the stories they tell are still etched deep in your memory. It is not the murals, but they stories told, that paint the image of the celestial beings these temples were built for – their beauty lies in both their wonder and the fear their powers command.
- And when you finally stand there, at the doorway of the inner sanctum. The magnetic pull you had felt dissipates. That which crawled on your tongue slips past your lips. It is no question, nor a wish. Just a plea. A soft one. It comes as a sob.
- You bend down and touch the stone pillar once again. It is also warm. Now, it pulses.
- You hum an old kirtan. You don’t remember how you learned this song, but it was in you and now it is out. You hear the temple sing back.
- In the inner sanctum sits the idol. The obsidian statue seems to come to life under the wavering glow of the oil lamps… is that a smile or a sneer?
this is my best friend and the south asian rep is absolutely beautiful because we don’t see any south asian rep in media anyways (looking at you mainstream)