Words by Siddharth Das
Field Notes from India
Bengal has no stone. So, its history was written in baked earth. The terracotta temples of Bishnupur stand as a testament to the alchemy of river clay and fire. The intricate panels depict everything from the Mahabharata to the daily lives of 17th-century commoners.
"Clay is the most democratic material. It belongs to the river, and eventually, it returns to it."
Touching the reliefs, one feels the fingerprints of artisans long gone. The tactile nature of terracotta—its warmth, its porosity—makes these monuments feel alive, breathing in the humidity of the delta. We spent days cataloging the motifs, finding a language of symbols that transcends the religious and enters the realm of the purely aesthetic.
It is in these quiet moments—the pause between stitches, the breath before the hammer strikes—that culture is preserved. Not in museums behind glass, but here, in the dust and the heat, in the hands that refuse to forget.