Quest for the Perfect Nataraja

Even before Sarah and I had the opportunity to move to India, I had fallen under the spell of the classic Nataraja statue. I recall seeing a sculpture of the dancing figure nearly two meters tall in the exit corridor at the Anna International Terminal at Madras Airport when we arrived for our first visit to Chennai in April 2016, and being enchanted by the delicate grace and fiery energy of the figure even though I had no idea who it was or what it meant. So, ever since we moved to Chennai, I’ve kept my eye peeled to find the perfect Nataraja to grace our new home.

Okay, so what is the Nataraja and what’s the story behind it? (You know there are always marvelous tales of the 330 million Hindu gods and their histories and their relationships!) The Nataraja figure represents Shiva, the god whose main role is as the destroyer of evil who creates, protects, and transforms the universe, in his avatar as Lord of the Dance. (My Hindu friends, please forgive and correct my misunderstandings and misinterpretations of what I’ve been told and have read!)

At any rate, one of the favorite tales of Shiva is of his contest versus Kali, the Hindu goddess of death, time, and doomsday who is often associated with sexuality and violence but is also considered a strong mother-figure and symbolic of motherly-love. Kali also embodies shakti – feminine energy, creativity and fertility – and is an incarnation of Shiva’s eternal consort, Parvati. (Right, this is complicated so bear with me!)

South Indian tradition says that Kali was terrorizing the forest Thillai and one of Shiva’s devotees begged him to stop his wife’s destruction. Shiva agreed and subjected himself to her so she would stop her angry work and at least talk with him . . . then the two decided to use the best way of settling a disagreement: they’d have a dance-off!

So the two deities started their dance-off, and appeared to be evenly matched, as Kali duplicated each of Shiva’s intricate and ecstatic dance moves. But then, one of Shiva’s earrings fell off and he blithely picked it up with his toes and then lifted his leg all the way up to replace it. Kali, due to her feminine modesty, declined to imitate the unseemly gesture, and thus lost the competition, granting Shiva the title of Lord of the Dance. Of course there is so much more to these stories . . .

As we explored the shops and fairs of Chennai and Mahabalipuram and even Pondicherry, we never found a Natara who really spoke to us. It was only on our trip to southern Tamil Nadu, The More We Discover, Redux, that we completed our quest. Sarah and I agreed to indulge our guide following our tour of the Meenakshi Temple in Madurai, and allowed him to escort us to one of the many shops surrounding the temple and selling all manner of artifacts from the cheapest “buy and throw” plastic to the ancient and priceless. As we strolled the ground floor looking at pashminas and dupattas and painted Ganeshas and inexpensive idols and cheap carpets–and a few small Nataraja’s–I mentioned without much hope that I’d been looking for the perfect Nataraja.

“Cheap, not for you! But do you prefer old or antique?” came the immediate response.

“Old is fine.”

“Second floor, follow me.”

Second floor, indeed! The header photo shows me under the spell of an array of Nataraja’s in just the right size and in a range of ages, metals, and prices. After comparing several “old” versions, I fell in love with an 80+ year old, five metal piece and even felt I did a somewhat decent job of negotiation, including the inept “We’re just looking” and the miserly “I only wanted to spend x” to the coveted “first customer of the day” discount. Sigh.

Nonetheless, we flew home delighted with our well wrapped Nataraja and, with Shanthi’s help, at last we have a puja altar topped with our very own Lord of the Dance! Our home is complete . . . almost.

And what might be next on our ongoing quest . . .  could it be a Buddha under the Bodhi tree that’s tantalized me since I saw one–the only one I’ve seen in that size–at our first Kalakshetra Shante Fair last fall? That story may be more challenging and remains to be written.

Meanwhile, Sarah and I headed off for a week in Bangkok on ten days’ notice after we had cancel our planned trip to Sri Lanka due to a state of emergency declared by the government there . . . and that sojourn in Bangkok is, of course, another story . . . hint: do you know what restaurant has been ranked number 1 in all of Asia the last three years running . . . ?

Author: David Hassler

David M. Hassler was fortunate enough to have become a relatively rare male Trailing Spouse when his talented wife Sarah accepted a job teaching music in the elementary division of the American International School in Chennai, India, in 2017. His role included, for more than three years there, serving as her everything wallah, but also allowed him time for exploring, discovering, and sharing new places, new faces, and new tastes around Chennai, throughout south India, and beyond. When the pandemic arrived, Sarah retired and they moved to Lisbon, Portugal, where they continue to live and love life. David M. Hassler is a long-time member of the Indiana Writers Center Faculty and holds an MFA from Spalding University. His work has been published in Maize and the Santa Fe Writers' Project. He served as a Student Editor for The Louisville Review and as Technical Editor for Writing Fiction for Dummies. He is currently the Fiction Editor for Flying Island, an online literary journal. He is co-author of Muse: An Ekphrastic Trio, and Warp, a Speculative Trio, and future projects include A Distant Polyphony, a collection of linked stories about music and love, memories and loss; and To Strike a Single Hour, a Civil War novel that seeks the truth in one of P T Barnum's creations. He is a founding partner in Boulevard Press. View all posts by David Hassler