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Buried by the sands of time
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Science and spirituality merge at Talakadu
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It is a classical Indian story set on the banks of the River Cauvery. It is the tale of Talakadu, the erstwhile fertile capital of the Ganga Dynasty that is now partially buried under sand dunes. It was a natural curiosity to unearth the secrets of T
alakadu that took us there. While a geologist cites erosion and dams as the reason behind this sand-blown town, my local guide blames it on the curse of a woman.
The curse on Talakadu
His narration takes us to the time when the Wodeyars of Mysore attacked and defeated Srirangapatna and Talakadu, which were under the Vijaynagar Empire. Wodeyar sent his soldiers to covet the jewels of the ruler’s widow Alamelamma.
As she fled, she jumped into the Cauvery, cursing: “May Talakadu always be covered with sand and may the kings of Mysore always remain without heirs.”
The locals fear the curse as they say that it has proved true. Talakadu is mysteriously engulfed by a sea of sand and the family tree of Mysore rulers shows a large number of adopted heirs.
And, recent excavations have unearthed a Hoysala temple, besides Panchalingas from these hillocks of sand that cover the river basin — the story moves from being a mere myth to historic discoveries as well.
We paused to give our feet a bit of rest and heard the story of Tala and Kada, the two hunters after whom this town in named. Sage Somadatta and his disciples were in the forest doing penance when they were killed by wild elephants. They were later reborn as elephants and continued their penance. One day, Tala and Kada watched the elephants offer prayers to a silk cotton tree. The curious hunters axed the tree, only to find it bleeding. A voice instructed them to heal the wound with the leaves, and the blood miraculously turned into milk.
The hunters and the elephants were immortalised as a temple was built around the tree, and called Talakadu.
We had walked for more than a couple of hours, deeply engrossed in the continuous banter of our guide, and ended up travelling back several centuries.
We paused for a moment, taking in the sight. The silence was overwhelming. The voices of the past were buried under the layers of sand. We sat there, trying to build castles, but the winds gently swept them down.
This, we realised, was the destiny of Talakadu — the confluence of the historic and the mythical; where science and spirituality merged, but were swept away by the sands of time.
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