Description: The Bundela king Veer Singh Deo—the man who built the palaces at Orchha and Datia in honour of his friend the Mughal emperor Jahangir—was a prolific builder. Among the other constructions to his name is this one, a temple atop a hillock overlooking Orchha. The Lakshminarayan Temple, dedicated to the goddess of wealth, Lakshmi, and her consort, Narayan, was built by Veer Singh Deo in 1622. A later ruler, Prithvi Singh, renovated the temple in 1793, and in 1984 (or ’86, our guide admits he doesn’t remember which) some thieves broke in and stole the temple idol, thus depriving the building of its status as a temple. It has since reverted to being just another historic monument. Though it’s protected by the Archaeological Survey of India, not too many people visit, so the local caretaker looks a bit surprised when we turn up with our guide.
Inside, the Lakshminarayan Temple looks like a scaled-down version of the Orchha Fort, but with a greater emphasis on indigenous elements of architecture—the whaleback roofs, the overhangs or dripstones, and the oriel windows that are common in places like Rajasthan are in evidence here, much more than the domes that predominate in more Mughal buildings. The main gate is decorated with a scalloped arch and carving, including two small figures of stylised lions that jut out over the doorway.
We go through small courtyards, past arches decorated with plaster figures of deities, and into the first of several rooms decorated with murals. This room is open on one side, held up by slender columns; the wall is covered over with a deep brick red colour, into which delicate line drawings have been traced in white. These are mainly depictions of the Hindu god Krishna, playing the flute and cavorting with his many ladies in pleasure gardens.
Similar styles of painting follow in the other rooms we visit. The themes, however, really run amok! I expect illustrations of Krishna in a Hindu temple; I do not expect large paintings of 19th century British officers having a tête-à-tête! But they are there, two men dolled up in boots, breeches, tricorn hats and coats heavy with braid, drinking wine as they chat. Although no mention has been made of alterations or additions to the Lakshminarayan Temple after the 18th century, there are obvious signs of work having carried on well past the 1850’s: one of the rooms has the upper half of its walls covered with small, intricate images of the mutiny of 1857. Here, bayonet-holding British soldiers form ranks while their officers confer in a tent; there, the Indians move forward on war elephants and horses. While the paintings near the entrance of the temple are large, white-on-brick red, these ones are small, painted in shades of black, red, brown and ochre, on a white ground. And the scenes are not restricted to India’s freedom movement: there are also scenes from the battles of the Hindu epics, the Mahabharat and the Ramayana.
Most interesting of all are the two depictions of a local heroine whom just about every Indian knows about: Queen Lakshmibai of Jhansi (Jhansi is 16 km from Orchha). Lakshmibai was an intrepid warrior who led her armies into battle against the British in 1857. Though she was eventually killed, she did manage to make a name for herself by her bravery and her defiance of the British. The artists who painted the interiors of this temple probably realised that here was their chance to immortalise Lakshmibai: you can see her, dressed in flowing robes and sitting in a garden, conversing with a woman, in one mural; right above is Lakshmibai in her warrior avatar, on horseback. Another battle scene shows her, amidst other archers on horseback, loosing off arrows from her bow while her adopted son Damodar clings to her back.
Though the paintings on the lower walls have been ruthlessly mutilated and covered with graffiti, the ones on the ceilings and upper walls are in much better condition. They’re excellent murals, of what is known as the Bundelkhand School of Painting. And the subjects—religion on the one hand, nationalism on the other—are eclectic enough to be intriguing. Don’t miss this.
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