Inside a 13th-Century Temple, I Questioned My Whole Life
A reflection at an ancient temple on mortality, time, and building what endures.
Dwarfed by a much taller stone slab bearing old Kannada letters from 1235 AD, I wondered if I had ever truly thought long term. I questioned whether I was building anything that would outlast my brief turn on this planet.
The chill of the cool soapstone floor humbled me. A twenty-something man who feared dying due to some impending epidemic bowed before an ancient monument that had witnessed so much more - countless wars, floods, famines, and regime changes.
As I ran my fingers over the sculptures, it dawned on me that it took time to create great things. Every curve, every ornament, and every incision would have once existed in someone's mind, then in hand, and then in the world. It would have taken thousands of nights to create such immortal beauty.
With the rays of the setting sun painting the temple golden, I understood that I sat upon a temporal bridge. A bridge connecting people to their ancestors. History felt personal when I realized that this ancient monument was a deliberate gift from the heroes of the past, so that we could know what they imagined, worshipped, celebrated, and feared.
As twilight settled, I left the temple in high spirits, inspired to do something bold that might be remembered with gratitude for generations to come.