Endearing people and their endangered languages

Among the many quotes about language that come to mind it is Virginia Woolf’s words that I remember the most – “Language is wine upon the lips”. Her intention to fuse the timelessness of good wine with language, easily one of the pillars of any culture or civilization, got me wondering if the two were inversely proportional to each other. While wine’s primary characteristic is getting better with age, language seems to have suffered an opposite fate. Yes – evolution is the inevitable attribute of any tongue known to humans but that always depends on the number of people speaking it. It is through usage after all that language much like wine grows in potency and takes on new meanings. And so just like wine even the best languages cease to exist if there are no word vineyards where interested feet are trampling over raw letter grapes to produce the finest in aroma and texture to communicate a thought or an emotion.

The reason I find my mind wandering into the forests of languages is because of a meeting I was recently part of. As I had mentioned in an earlier post my extended family now consists of Tanjavur Marathis (TM). So I grabbed at the opportunity to finally come face to face with a community that is currently in the process of salvaging not just their unique language but also a lot of their customs, traditions and history. Hosted by Dr. Vijendra Rao – an eminent wood scientist with scores of doctoral papers and books on the subject at his warm residence in Bangalore – the event was a resounding success. In his inaugural speech he candidly remarked “My love for wood is perhaps more than my love for food”. This seems accurate given that his current book is going to examine the types of wood used for chariots in ancient India. A work I eagerly look forward to obtaining. Accompanying him in this gala was his better half Mrs. Usha Rao (a teacher by profession) and several veterans from the TM community. These included retired directors of well-known companies and organizations, accomplished doctors, academicians and research scientists to name a few.

After an extremely warm welcome full of good cheer and well meaning humor the focus turned towards one of the main agendas of the meet – language. Such is the nature of the spoken word that it automatically has a direct effect on other key areas such as literature, music and familial customs. These areas were also discussed at length but since language is often the root in such a conversation it will be the primary focus of this piece.

Hearing them express their growing concern over the quickly disappearing count of TM speakers got me thinking about other places in the world where the exact symptom is prevalent. I was reminded of a National Geographic article I had come across a few months ago about the “Enduring Voices Project” which is a Nat Geo initiative aimed at creating awareness and promoting proactive measures for languages on the brink of extinction. According to their estimate more than 7000 languages spoken on Earth may disappear by 2100. The demographic shows that the epidemic of dying languages is not restricted to just one part of the world. It showcases languages like Chylum, Aka and Yami that are clinging to the last remaining survivors who, with their passing, shall take along with them an entire civilization. While the result seems quite extreme I could certainly relate with it.

Being a native Kannada speaker I have constantly complained about how, even in the most “local areas”, folks in Bangalore no longer speak proper Kannada. Either they have switched over to a badly sculpted version of English (which is specifically designed to be robotic, non-committal and woefully incorrect) or a bizarre amalgamation of Hindi, English and some other native tongue (which I am not familiar with but people tell me it is indeed Kannada). Through greedy commercialization of every street in the country it appears a carefully yet horribly orchestrated erosion of languages has started.

 But the issue with TM suffering as an endangered kind has several factors that are much more than commercialization of one prominent language. Everything from parents choosing the more dominant tongue for their children to the lack of proper resources from where new learning can begin seem to be at play. So, in a quest to familiarize myself better with the problem that seems to have counterparts all over the globe I began by asking myself three simple questions. The answers or recommendations I have come up with are nothing more than a scratch on the surface but hopefully the first grape has been plucked for the oenophiles to come out of their hiding.

Why do languages disappear? 

The primary answer for this seems to be – loss of a reason to use it. All communication in mankind has happened for some foreseeable purpose. But when that purpose is attacked and is replaced by a much higher seemingly better alternative the mode of speech is forced to go into hiding where it dies a slow death by starvation. Like TM every language that is currently under threat has undergone a similar phenomenon either due to invasions, mass migration of native speakers or a gradual shift in the socio-economic landscape of the region. In TM’s case (and this came up during the meeting) the 1857 rebellion seems to be the catalyst for the abrupt halting in its linguistic development. Following that event the gradual decrease it has experienced both in Maharashtra and certainly Tanjavur are plain facts now. With time and the influx of English as the language of both education and trade languages like TM (and I am sure there are hundreds of such native tongues just in Southern India) have had to bear the blow of cowing under the shadows of more dominant languages like Marathi or Tamil. So slowly the belt of people who spoke such tongues moved to different parts of the country/world and with changing generations records of its glorious past were slowly left behind in dusty museums for the unaware public to view dispassionately. Even I, as someone who is viewing this topic with sincere empathy, had previously been guilty of wondering – “So what? Such is human evolution isn’t it? Survival of the fittest? What really happens if a language dies out? Is it not replaced by a tongue stronger and more communicative?” My misplaced wondering was answered by some concrete perspectives.

What happens if a language dies?

In an interview with Bud Lane, vice chairman of Siletz tribal council and a native speaker of Athabaskan (a language of the Siletz tribe in Pacific Northwest), the same question was asked. His response was the following:

“You would lose your people's view of the world, and not just of the world today but you would lose your view of how a world came to be for you. And there's lots of ways to describe things in many languages, of course. But like with ours, I'll just give you an example of how our people view our land here. You always - you hear different stories about how people love the land in many different cultures. But our word for the earth is (speaking foreign language), and what it literally means is made for you, and that's our view of our land. God made these lands for us. It's made for us to inhabit and to benefit from. And so when you take - when you say a world view, there's just a different way of looking at the world... than another culture might have. And I'm not saying it's superior to any other culture. I'm just saying that it's different, and that's what we talk about, about language lost and the culture and the world view that goes with those words.” 

His words addressed some key points of my query about the consequences of a language’s death, the most important being – world view. There are writings in old Kannada etched all over the walls of historic places like Belur and Hampi that I am certain only a handful can read and understand. These are more than just “interesting writings” that a casual tourist might snap as a memento for a Facebook page. These are in fact chronicles of how the people from that era, hundreds of centuries ago, saw their world. Their world – the root purpose of all languages. A way to express the feel, the sights and the sounds of a world that belongs to an age we cannot even begin to imagine. A time capsule that has sadly been masked by the stereotypes of dominant languages like English which, with tragic irony, is my current tool to pen my thoughts. I am certain those writings contain words, expressions and sayings that capture our world much better than any language we currently know. The same holds true for unique languages like TM which document an emotion of those times that is so unlike, almost so alien, to the ones we are familiar with. So I guess to surmise – the only purpose that should matter for salvaging a language should be this – a unique way to see the world so that expressing oneself becomes a globally connected theme.

How to save a language from extinction? 

The ground of the discussions that took place at the meeting was thinking of ways to create practical solutions for not just sustaining TM but also to help it grow. To repeat my analogy with Virginia’s words on language and wine, a seed has to be sown somewhere. And that seed can take up several forms, a few of which I have compiled below.

- All language starts from the mouth of a learner. It is in those first words that the majestic trees of all languages find water. So, the most obvious starting point could be the child of the native speaker. But again, the lack of a reason added to the missing support structure outside the home can be barriers. So to counter that experts recommend continuing home traditions (marriages, prayer ceremonies, etc.) always only in the native tongue. Teaching the child songs and lullabies in that language helps cement a better understanding and appreciation for it. And most importantly, giving the young one a clear perspective of just why s/he should know the tongue always helps. Hopefully it will be something more rational and less intimidating than “Because I said so!”

 - Creating a love for the words is yet another way I feel helps anyone love a language – child and adult alike. Often people learn a foreign language not for job or education purposes but just for the love of it. The fabric of spoken language is full of hidden meanings that go beyond flat dictionaries. I have even heard of languages where there is no word for “me” or “I”, “mine” or “hate”. This tells me something about that culture. To be able to embed an entire community in that sort of brotherhood instantly creates a new world view. So to find hooks in a language that will engage the learner is a key, albeit challenging, aspect.

 - Learning anything new, including language, requires an application. (With the existing haven of technology sources online this is perhaps the easiest thing to do. If people from an era where oral and written were the only modes of communication have left behind such a bounty for us to explore then we should certainly be able to do better?) This takes me back to the prime factor why languages die out – lack of reason. So being able to create feasible deliverable  - like small audio/visual tutorials, stories, talking dictionaries, sing along songs and even translations of some very popular literature out there - would be a great step forward. Creating  a knowledge bank of something so unique would certainly instill a sense of both pride and accomplishment in the learner. Free services like YouTube and SoundCloud can easily be used to design and publish such attempts.

I brought up the last point in since as an invariable part of a schooling ordeal I was made to sit through obscure Sanskrit lessons. At the time (and thanks to an extremely unhelpful and uninterested teacher) I lost whatever little hope I might have found kindled within me for the “language of the gods”. Today at an age when I look at people proficiently speaking the tongue I am stung with the memories of the same unpleasant experience which often has been a barrier for me to ever learn this beautiful language again. A barrier I look forward to surpassing someday. So this last point of being able to create fun and practical applications for the language helps create good memory associations with it and perhaps will motivate the learner to take it forward for the next generation.

What to do after gaining some mastery on the language?

I lived in South America for several years at the beginning of my career. The only language spoken on the streets was Spanish (although it was more a corrupted version of the original). Despite my working place being English I found myself at a woeful disadvantage when I stepped out into the city. Everyone from the supermarket people to the taxi drivers to the barbers spoke only Spanish. I had a choice of whether or not to attend special classes to pick up the language but I chose an interesting alternative instead. I decided to use a medium I personally enjoyed more than sitting through a 3 hour lecture session after an 8 hour day at work. Every evening I would come home and at least for an hour I would watch Spanish soap operas. I would then switch on popular English sitcoms that I enjoy like Seinfeld, Frasier or Friends and read the Spanish subtitles underneath. Within the first year I was actually confident enough to speak some of the language openly in public. I remember stunning my local colleagues by dishing out my polished Español as they would pat my back and congratulate me. So the lesson for me here was this, and perhaps the most challenging thing about dying languages – finding a personal connection. If a connection can be made with a language, be it through any route – mythological, historical, artistic, scientific or literary – the chances of that learning staying longer with us seem stronger.

I returned from the meeting with the deliciously addictive taste of TM on my lips after almost four hours of listening to some scintillating conversations. Woolf was right. Language certainly is the wine on our lips if only we can find a way to grow that vineyard of reasons from where future generations can continue tasting our history’s finest labels.

Krishna Row Agraharam

Historic sign at the entrance

The pillars are quiet now yet leaning against them is like meeting a thousand memories. The floors are now ripe with age yet one can feel the soft rumble of a thousand feet from before. The walls have swallowed sunshine and rain yet seem to be forever smeared with voices from a century ago. A mere stroll through #1 Krishna Rao Agraharam – a palatial mansion in the heart of old Kumbakonam – has the potency of bringing back powerful images from another era. Sitting first in a row of several homes built in a similar style this mansion is the highlight of a larger collection that form the part of the legacy of Mr. Gopal Rao – the current descendant and caretaker of a story that began more than two centuries ago. Looking into this house’s generously laid out living spaces, examining the rusted bars sealed between its pleasant blue window frames, taking in the air that envelopes this fine moment in time revealed several stories that span across so many eventful decades.

Portrait of Ranganatha Rao

But the real story of this place begins elsewhere. In those days a man named Narahari Rao is said to have acquired property amounting to over 6000 acres through means that I am told qualify to fill up several interesting volumes. An employee of the then Nayak kings, Rao was said to have changed allegiance to join the East India Company at Tirucherai, a beautiful village nestled on the banks of Cauvery, once the British began establishing domain in the region. Subsequently around 150 years ago his descendants then shifted base to Kumbakonam which was the cultural and literary hub of the time. It was through this move that the person after whom this cocoon of homes is named – Krishna Rao – ended up being a descendant of this huge family.

Living spaces in the ground floor

Though part of an adopted lineage Krishna Rao managed to acquire several urban properties and one of which became the Agraharam. The word “Rao” was spelt “Row” at the time and this can be seen imprinted firmly at the entrance of the street to this day. The word “Private” in the engraving further solidifies his desire to create this spacious haven for all his kith and kin. After Krishna Rao’s time the house continued onto several hands. Amongst first of those were children of Krishna Rao’s two wives (daughters of Reddy Rao, a former Dewan of Travencore). It was his son Ranganatha Rao who built the home located at # 1 in its current state. A fire incident is said to have destroyed what was formerly a smaller establishment.

Pillars in the main area

Built in the naatukottai style the current version of the house is 90 years old. Attached to this generous edifice are several other homes of which # 4 is used by Mr. Gopal Rao whenever he visits Kumbakonam. Homes that follow the fourth house were given away as gifts to Vedic scholars and other employees of the family. A Vittala temple was also constructed as part of this Agraharam while the entire stretch of area opposite to this street was housed by orchards, stables and flowering gardens. Today unfortunately these spaces have been replaced by less attractive and more intrusive concrete blocks where other folks live.

Living area on entering the house

With passing time Krishna Rao’s legacy began taking various forms. Both of Ranganatha Rao’s sons were childless and so children of his three daughters and their families began living in the homes. At one point, and I was shown a fabulous black and white family photograph as evidence, there were more than 150 people living in this house! Just imagining such a crowd walking in and out of its spaces day in day out made me reflect in wonder at the sheer energy of this corner. Of the collection of homes the first two were a place where everyone

Well ventilated spaces on entrance

lived the most. Armed with an attached kitchen the whole place must have felt like a never ending wedding ceremony with hot meals being dished out each hour of the day! Together with the first floor sections the entire collection of four houses in the Agraharam comprise a whopping 22000 square feet in area!
   
Apart from being one of the largest homes of its time this Agraharam was a pioneer for various things. It was the first residential house to have electricity, running water, a custom built rice hulling mill and a battalion of support staff that included accountants, cart and car drivers, milk men, sweepers, cooks, servers and watchmen. A continuous stream of life forms would enter and exit this activity-heavy entity

Rooms on the first floor

throughout the year. It is said that whenever a celebration of any kind would take place (and you can only imagine the unending crescendo of voices and events at such a time) the entire area including the adjoining streets would be cordoned off to disallow public entry. Rows of cars would be lined up awaiting service at any moment. Adding to this colossal list of amenities was a separate bathing ghat inside the Vittala temple exclusively for the women in the household.

First floor view of the house

As I stood there watching the stories unfold and tales from a bygone era spill forth like velvety dreams my mind filled up with voices and apparitions. I could see men in traditional attire crisscrossing the floor spaces, their faces busy with intent for the day. I could see children wailing on young women’s arms as the elderly ladies sat in corners and dispensed invaluable advice on proper child care. I could smell the heavenly aroma of a dozen dishes emanating from the culinary corners as people – young, old, tall, short, fat, thin, sleepy, awake, known, unknown – sat in dedicated rows indulging in all the delicacies served up on fresh green banana leaves. I smiled at the realization that such a scene perhaps was now a lost glimpse in history’s infinitely growing painting.

The action packed kitchen area

Over the years a trust fund (currently in the name of Satyatma Teertha of Uttaradi Mutt) has been established to help maintain it as best as possible. There are over 30 claimants from the family who sort of own the entire Agraharam. Currently Mrs. Shyamala Rao (Mr. Gopal Rao’s first cousin Ranga Rao’s bereaved septuagenarian wife) lives at the palatial mansion mostly by herself. People who have known the family for literally centuries visit the place often and help out in more ways than one. During our first visit to the house the chronic power blackout that plagues the region had struck. Despite the pitch darkness a certain Geeta aunty – a family friend – prepared a wonderful dinner just for J and I at Mr. Gopal Rao’s request. Watching her serve up that excellent meal with an earnest smile was truly a humbling experience. It helped me learn some more of the cordial relationships that Mr. Gopal Rao has maintained with the families in the neighborhood to this day. Little wonder then that such sincerely helpful people are part of his very diverse network.

Terrace area on the second floor

On our second visit to the Agraharam a larger banquet had been arranged where, due to the water shortage problems at the Vijayendra Swamy mutt nearby, about 30 odd people (mostly strangers) had been invited over for a festive lunch at Mr. Gopal Rao’s residence. We found it fascinating that such a diverse and mutually unknown group was sitting down with us and enjoying the delicious Tanjavur Marathi cuisine coming out of the kitchen. It felt like the ideal way to continue such a beloved family tradition. Some heavenly “emergency halwa” and the quintessential Mandi Sambar Bhath were consumed while observing the dedication that had gone into both preparing and serving up the luncheon.

J spent the next hour and a half of our visit to the palatial house speaking to Mrs. Shyamala Rao. I walked around snapping whatever my limited understanding of such grandeur could surmise. She later told me about the eventful life Mrs. Rao had led in that house since the day she had walked into this gargantuan family as a teenaged bride. Coming from a less traditional background she had spoken of the culture shock she had to put up with in a home that was pretty high on Brahmin orthodoxy. Since it was a time when strict regulations were in place for the women of the house Mrs. Rao had faced an uphill task in getting used to her prescribed chores. Being from a liberal family she had found it challenging to adhere to special feminine restrictions levied upon her during certain times of the month. She, amusingly, shared her grief about having to use a less sophisticated toilet facility which she also admitted had become modernized with time.

View from the first floor

Being a fiercely Brahmin household the concept of soula (“madi” in Kannada and in a lighter tone: also defined as “an exaggerated, sometimes misguided, religious explanation of basic hygiene”) was in full swing. To help maintain this purity of things Mrs. Rao spoke of the different rooms in the Agraharam that had designated functions. One of the rooms in Mr. Gopal Rao’s residence (where I switched over to a traditional South Indian panche/veshtee/waist cloth for the mega festive luncheon) was assigned only for child births. A record number of sixty children are said to have been born there. It was funny, and a little scary, to imagine all the sixty kids wailing in that little room at the same time.

Divine presence on the walls

There remains a strong presence of divine adherence in the family. Hence, the Agraharam has played host to many a swamiji from various Brahmin sects when they spent several days performing prayers and blessing the household. Grainy photographs exist of their attendance to this day acting as a friendly reminder of better days. The pooja room on the ground floor and the large main living area’s walls are sprayed with dozens of photographs of various Hindu gods. I even spotted a couple of authentic Tanjavur paintings in that collection – a family heirloom of sorts – which have been preserved quite well.

Row of rooms on the first floor

Given such an unending stream of social and religious fares the kitchen was always open. In fact Mrs. Rao told us of a traditional wooden stove that was used exclusively only for the Jahangir sweet! Since that sweetmeat was considered “non-Brahmin” (it was from Persia and hence labeled a foreign entity) a special stove was dedicated only to it. The idea of designing something so exclusive to indulge in it whilst maintaining disdain for its origins made us all laugh with empathy at the familiarity of it all. The entire area around the kitchen was used to store large quantities of fresh fruit, vegetables and grains for the endless torrent of people entering and exiting the premises.

The grinding stone

Our meeting with this wonderfully chatty and refreshingly open lady came to an end where, with a sigh, she told us of the changed times. She spoke of her loneliness in that huge mansion after the passing away of her husband. She did mention that loyal helpers (some second or even third generation) of the family dropped by and gave her company but the visible grandeur and majesty of the place was no longer there. Fragmented family structures and shifting priorities had driven everyone away from that cocoon of fellowship. The entire family is now scattered in different parts of the world although some of them do make the long trip back to this house to relive old memories. Mr. Gopal Rao and his family remain one such group.

Though the house is almost a century old it’s condition is still quite robust. Mr. Rao explained to us how the wood for the roof’s insides had to be specially ordered and designed since they were no longer used. All the homes now boast of all the modern facilities but a sad side effect has been the slight compromising of the old world feel. As we discussed the issue we all agreed that too much restoration could have a detrimental effect on the authentic feel of the place and the need to preserve what is left of an era that shall never return.

We stepped back out into the afternoon sun having experienced the warmth and affection of Mr. Gopal Rao, Geetha aunty, Mrs. Shyamala Rao and many other acquaintances of the family. Our trip to this region had been to investigate, understand and appreciate the historic vein that runs through it.  “Krishna Row Agraharam” only amplified that objective by showcasing to us with its silent grace several pleasant echoes from over two centuries ago. For this J and I will be eternally thankful to Mr. Gopal Rao for giving us such a warm invitation to visit his past. Through him we got a chance to meet and be won over by so many humble, transparent and well-meaning individuals. These were people who had lived a life so full of meaning, pride and most importantly so in touch with fellow human beings – an attribute that seems to be quickly vanishing from our chaotic lives. We had gone to the Agraharam to see something from the olden days of life but instead returned with a lot of new perspectives on humanity itself.

..ShaKri..

Some more beautiful frames from this historic place:

Artifacts around the house

Special stove for making coffee

Stairs to the terrace area

View from the center of the house

Authentic Tanjore paintings

View of roof from the terrace

J with Mrs. Shyamala in living area

Doors to the past are locked

 

The Pooja Room

Doors leading to inner areas

In search of Mayasura

For the last few days I have been spending a lot of time researching stuff about Indian mythology. The trigger for this sequence began when I accidentally found out that there was a temple for Pandavas (and Draupadi) in the heart of Bengaluru! This then led me to continue tunneling through the millions of pages sitting unexplored over the web and fishing out choice pieces that gave me a new/alternative/contradictory view of the traditional 'it must be true because elders/scriptures say so' rendition of the epics like Mahabharata and Ramayana. The idea behind this exercise wasn't so much to try and say 'here, this is *the* correct version of such and such a story'. It was more an attempt really to investigate some rationale, some practical purpose, some realistic (preferably non-mythical) explanation for the events that we are always treated to with a spicy dash of magic and fantasy.

So, what have I found out thus far? Well not a lot but a few things that I hadn't known before. I have started bookmarking my findings under the 'Favorites' tab of my Twitter handle. Those who are interested in looking them up can do so by visiting the URL below:

http://twitter.com/#!/shakwrites/favorites

Now, with that little intro and shameless marketing bit done, let me zero in on the theme of this blog. And also, before I begin, I have marked the sources for this blog as numbers from 1 to 5. You can find the actual links for these web pages at the end of this blog.

I stumbled upon a paper titled - 'The astronomical link between India and the Mayans' [1]. The piece – possibly a student paper for some project – discusses the possibility that there was a link between the Indus Valley civilization and the Mayans. The author provides some interesting (albeit debatable purely from a time line/historic point of view) instances of Vedic warriors (possibly Arjuna) making a trip to the Mayan lands. It goes on to suggest that a friendly alliance between Arjuna and Mayasura (Ravana's father-in-law and Mandodari's father. The great mythical engineer, architect, magician from Vedic times) had been forged. Now, we know that Mayasura was indeed a master builder since he is the one mentioned in the Mahabharata during the burning of the Khandava forest incident where he helps the Pandavas by building the fabulous mayasabha. He is also prime in the puranas during the creation of the mythical city of Tripura later destroyed by Shiva. [2]

So what about Mayasura then? Well this. I stepped upon this one blog [3] where the author mentions that Ravana and Mayasura had a falling out. Now, I am not sure if this is connected to Surpanaka's husband Asura Dushtabuddhi or not. I am still checking my sources on this. But nevertheless it is mentioned that on being exiled by Ravana after a huge spat, Mayasura used the netherworld route (pataala loka - which has been mentioned thousands of times in various contexts in the texts) and headed to the core of the earth. We know that Ravana's brother Ahiravana (or Mahiravana depending on the text you read) was the lord of the underworld. If we were to assume that Mayasura continued his journey onwards from Ahiravana's empire, and since the globe is round, the only place he could 'exit' back on earth was Central America. Presuming we are talking about a time line 4000 – 5000 years old here, that area might have been just jungles since as far as we know the human existence in the Mayan civilization dates back to only about 2000 BC. But then again the concept of time was different back then so there is obviously a very good chance there is room for critical errors here.

Now, be that as it may, this possibility triggered a thought in me. Geographically speaking, the direct route that connects the Indian peninsula and Central America does make sense in the current context. As the author suggests, take a globe and pierce a hole where India is. The needle will reappear where Mexico/Central America is. But was this what the world looked like 5000 years ago? Were the continents separated at more or less the same distance back then too? Or did Mayasura end up, if at all he did use that route, somewhere else? If so, then where? Worse yet, did he even take that route at all?

This is where a fellow tweep @Zenia_Dstranger's comment caught my attention. On reading the piece posted in [1], she said that Mayans had not been discovered by the rest of the world until the Spanish invasion began taking place in early 16th century. If we consider that is true, then there should be absolutely no major similarities between the Indus Valley culture (or the Hindu culture, for all intents and purposes) and the Mayans since not only are we speaking of huge geographical differences, but also culturally there should be no reason to believe they had anything in common. But that is where I ran into more questions and began researching the similarities between Mayans and the Indus Valley people. During this, I ran into two well articulated pieces - 'Mayan periods and Vedic architecture' by Marcus Shcmieke from the European Academy of Vedic Sciences [4] and a blog piece by a blogger named Mahesh who uses sources from several published works and journals to list a lot of similarities between the two customs [5].

Both of them discuss some amazing architectural, cultural, linguistic and lifestyle based similarities between the two civilizations which are not only surprising but also thought provoking. There is no denying that a lot of this does make sense in a general context but there is plenty still left for debate. For instance, the time line issue. The discrepancy of almost 1500 years between the historic findings in Mayan regions and the connections made to Mayasura. There is also the issue of origins. If indeed Mayasura was the creator of the Mayan regions then where did those people come from? Were they already there when he went there? And then he made his own 'world' using resources from his routes in the Indian peninsula to exchange science, language and technology? Or were they 'created' through some divine intervention as part of Maya's large scheme of things? If neither of this actually happened then why is there so much similarity between the two huge civilizations in some of the factors underlined in those articles? Having lived in South America for 7 years and traveled extensively in that region (including Guatemala) the observation I made was how similar the Latinos and Indians look. Could this also be a clue to indicate that link from thousands of years ago? Or is this all just a giant piece of disconnected items that just do not mesh?

Unable to keep these questions to myself, I have presented to you my infancy stage findings thus far in this quest. There is good chance I am reading the right stuff. There is also the chance that this search ends here and will take me no further. Whichever route I take, I did want to unburden myself with this data before it left me.

Now, reader, I ask of you just this. If you have read, seen or written something which is similar to the contents of this blog, please feel free to leave a comment below with your thoughts. Who knows, maybe together we can put this riddle into place or maybe we conclude this wasn't a riddle at all to begin with. Either way, this scratching the surface attempt would have been worth it.

Cheers,



Sources

[1] http://tinyurl.com/6cwpcuz

[2] http://tinyurl.com/6395ehh / Also read this 'Math and Myth' piece on Tripura: http://t.co/hSPz1Tm

[3] http://tinyurl.com/64psqex

[4] http://www.veda-academy.com/articles/vasati/mayas_pyramids.htm

[5] http://indiamahesh.wordpress.com/2010/05/26/pre-columbian-american-indian-connection/