The Churning of the Ocean of Milk

A Story from the Mahabharata and a Collection of its Representations

The Churning of the Ocean of Milk is a story from the Sanskrit epic The Mahabharata, though slightly different versions appear in other ancient texts. We first came across it in 2014, and repeatedly since, but it is not, I think, well known in the west.

Indra, the King of the Gods and his elephant Airavata disrespected the sage Durvasa who cursed all the gods making them so weak and feeble they lost control of the universe to the demons.

Indra sought help from Vishnu, the Supreme God, who suggested they co-operate with the demons to churn the Ocean of Milk and so release Amrita, the Nectar of Immortality, for their mutual benefit. Vishnu would then see to it that only the gods got to drink the Amrita.

Using the holy Mt Mandara as a churning paddle they wrapped Vasuki the king of the serpents round the mountain and then first the demons pulled on the head, then the gods on the tail, back and forth until the churning was complete. A number of treasures emerged from the Ocean, including Lakshmi who became the wife of Vishnu, and Chandra the moon god. Finally came Dhanvantari, the heavenly physician, holding a pot of Amrita. Vishnu, in the form of the enchanting damsel Mohini distracted the demons while Garuda, the vehicle of Vishnu, delivered the Amrita to the gods.

The rest, as they say, is history – or in this case mythology.

Angkor Wat, Siem Reap, Cambodia
Feb 2014

We first encountered the story at Angkor Wat

Demons heaving away on Vasuki, King of the Serpents
The carving, on one of the lower galleries at Angkor Wat, is so crisp it cannot be original

Angkor Wat was built as a Hindu temple between 1120 and 1150. It became a Buddhist temple when the Khmer Empire converted to Buddhism shortly afterwards, but 'The Churning' is a story Buddhists seem happy to retell. The story appears in non-temple settings as well...

The south Gate, Angkor Thom (Feb 2014)
On one side of the bridge the gods are pulling on the serpent, on the other side are the demons. The figures here are original, except for some of the heads

Xieng Khuan Buddha Park, Vientiane, Laos
March 2014

In the 1950s, a few kilometres south of Vientiane, Bounleua Soulilat, a the holy man for whom the word 'eccentric' rather overstates his normality, built the Xieng Khuan Buddha Park.

Xieng Khuan Buddha Parl, Vientiane

The Park includes a globe.

The world, Xieng Khuan Buddha Park, Vientiane

Entering through the mouth you find hell at the bottom and the world up a set of concrete stairs. In the heavens above is a delightfully naïve 'Churning'.

The Churning of the Ocean of Milk, Xieng Khuan Buddha Park, Vientiane

Colombo Sri Lanka
January 2015

Sri Lanka is predominantly Buddhist, but 13% of the population, mostly Sri Lankan Tamils, are Hindu. Sri Lanka's oldest Hindu temple is the Sri Kailasanthar Swami Devashthanam Kovil, also (for no reason I could discover) known as the Captain's Garden Temple in Colombo.

Sri Kailasanthar Swami Devashthanam Kovil, Colombo

Inside is a depiction of the 'Churning'.

The Churning of the Ocean of Milk, Sri Kailasanthar Swami Devashthanam Kovil, Colombo

Rameswaram, Tamil Nadu, India
March 2016

Not so far away, just across the strait, is Rameswaram, an island off the coast of India where we saw another 'Churning.'

A 'Churning' outside the building of the Swami Sadanand Pranami Cheritable (sic) Trust

The Swami Sadanand Cheritable (do they come from Surrey?) Trust runs schools and is involved with promoting blood donations.

[and added later]

The Sun Temple, Modhera, Gujarat, India
March 2019

The Modhera temple, dedicated to the sun god, Surya was built in the first half of the 11th century by King Bhima I of the Chaulukya Dynasty who ruled Northern Gujarat/Southern Rajasthan from c.940CE to 1244.

The Sun Temple at Modhera, Gujarat

Low on one of the external walls of the shrine I found a small, incomplete representation of the churning. Unlike the carving at Angkor Wat it looks worn and damaged enough to really be a thousand years old. The surviving figure on the left looks human - a god presumbly - those on the right have rather simian features, I presume they are the demons.

The Churning of the Ocean of Milk, Modhera Sun Temple, Gujarat

A Little Background - India and the Classical Civilizations

As a child I loved the Greek legends. I reread the story of Jason and the Argonauts when we visited Colchis (now eastern Georgia), the home of the Golden Fleece. It is a wonderful tale though Jason and his crew are nothing more than a band of brigands and Medea, Jason’s love interest, is a psychopath.

Medea and the golden Fleece. Europe Square, Batumi, Georgia (Aug 2014)

Modern Greeks, Romans and Egyptians are far removed from their classical forbears; monotheistic religions have eradicated the pantheon of gods around which their myths and legends were woven. No one today worships Zeus, Jupiter or Amun.

Southern India traded extensively with ancient Greece and Rome. It has been called the last surviving classical civilization and Hinduism retains a full, even overfull, pantheon – 33 gods, or 33,000 or 330 million, depending on your inclination.

Educated Hindus will explain that their religion is also monotheistic, that Brahma, the one Creator God is in everything, and the multitude of other deities merely provide ways to understand the many facets of the Creator. At village level I suspect it is different, and the myths and legends live on, sometimes even taken literally.

The main sources of these legends are the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, attributed to the poets Valmiki and Vyasa respectively in much the same way as the Odyssey and Iliad are attributed to Homer. All four texts are in poetic form making them relatively easy to commit to memory, so they probably existed in oral form long before they were first written down, which happened somewhere around 600BC both in Greece and India.

Batumi, Capital of Ajara: Part 15 of From the Caspian to the Black Sea

Jason & the Argonauts, Eccentric Architecture and Ajaran Khachapuri

Georgia

25-Aug-2014

Ajara

Batumi

We awoke to find the streets were wet. With prevailing winds over the Black Sea and the Lesser (though still substantial) Caucasus behind, it is hardly surprising that Batumi is the wettest town not just in Georgia but in the whole Caucasus region. You would think this might hamper its development as a seaside resort, but apparently not.

A wet morning in Batumi

It was, however, dry and warm by the time we had finished breakfast and were heading south towards the Gonio-Apsarus fortress.

Soviet Union 12th Military Base

In the days of the Cold War the border between Georgia (and Armenia a little to the South) and Turkey was the only land border between the USSR and a NATO member, so it could be a tense place. We passed the former ‘12th Military Base’ which became a Russian base with the disintegration of the USSR. After the 2004 Rose Revolution Georgia negotiated a Russians departure and the base was handed over in November 2007. It now rots quietly in the sun.

USSR 12th Military Base, south of Batumi

Gonio-Apsarus Fortress

Gonio-Apsarus, a much older and more picturesque military base, was a little further on, 15km from Batumi and 4km short of the border. Built by the Romans in the first century AD, it was taken over by the Byzantine Empire in the 6th century and became an Ottoman fortress in the 16th. The sturdy stone walls were obviously built to last.

Sturdy stone walls, Gonio-Apsarus

Apart from the impressive fortifications there is also a pleasant garden within the site and much archaeological activity concentrating on the Roman layers.

Garden Gorio-Apsarus

Impressive for what it is, Gonio-Apsarus is even more renowned for its connections with myth and legend.

Grave of the Apostle Matthias, Gonio-Apsarus

After the disgrace and suicide of Judas Iscariot, Matthias was chosen to replace him among the twelve apostles and, according to local legend, he is buried at Gonio-Apsarus. I had previously thought the graves of only three of the apostles were 'known' - St Peter in Rome (where he probably is not), St James in Santiago de Compostella (a huge cathedral built on a fanciful claim) and St Thomas just south of Chennai, formerly Madras, (an outside possibility) – but here is a fourth.

The grave of St Matthias, Gori-Apsarus

Jason and the Argonauts, Gonio Apsarus

There are those who sincerely believe this is the grave of Matthias, but the connection of Gonio-Apsarus with Jason and the Argonauts is securely in the realm of legend. Jason and his crew, supposedly the heroes of the tale but little more than a band of brigands, stole the Golden Fleece from Aeëtes, King of Colchis, possibly in what is now Kutaisi. The goddess Hera had made Aeëtes’ daughter Medea fall in love with Jason and without her help the quest would have been an abject failure.

Gonio-Apsarus

When King Aeëtes discovered Jason, his daughter and his fleece had gone he understandably gave chase. Medea killed and dismembered her brother Apsyrtus (what a charmer she was!) and strewed the pieces around the countryside knowing that her father would stop and gather them up to give his son a proper burial thus allowing time to escape. This, allegedly, happened at Gonio. I had not read the story for a long time, and was surprised at how badly almost everybody behaves; it is difficult to see any of these liars, cheats, thieves and murderers as heroes. Some years later Jason abandoned Medea - there's gratitude for you - and in revenge she killed their two children (which is, I think, poor parenting).

Where's Aeëtes, then?

Batumi Walking Tour

We returned to Batumi, and Dinara started our walking tour by the harbourmaster’s office. Batumi is a busy ferry and container port, but this is the quiet end.

The Port, Batumi

Miracle Park

From here it is a short walk to Miracle Park, which from some angles looks little more inviting than Military Base 12.

Miracle Park, Batumi - not looking its best

The area abounds with the sort of architecture that Batumi is trying to make is own. For many years it was a pleasant enough border city, but in the last five years money has been liberally sprayed around in an attempt to turn Batumi into a major international holiday resort.

Chacha, University and Alphabet Towers

The clock tower is known as the Chacha Tower as chacha - the fiery Georgian version of marc or grappa - is allegedly dispensed free for a few minutes at seven o'clock each evening. I do not know if this is true or merely wishful thinking. Behind the Chacha Tower is the tower of the local university which, for some inexplicable reason has a Ferris wheel two thirds of the way up. I am not convinced it ever turns – or how this is an improvement on an observation deck.

The Chacha Tower, The Radisson Hotel and the University Tower, Batumi

From a different angle the tower is in front of another folly, the Alphabet Tower. Built at great expense and opened in 2011, the outside is a double helix bearing the 33 letters of the Georgian alphabet - the DNA of the national language. A panoramic lift runs up the middle to a television studio and a revolving restaurant. Unfortunately none of these were operating and unless the building finds occupiers soon it will be merely a colossal waste of money.

Chacha Tower and the Alphabet Tower, Batumi

The architectural style continues in the nearby hotels. The odd wavy Radisson can be seen between the Chacha Tower and the university tower, the strangely curving Kempinski is best appreciated from Google's satellite picture while the Sheraton, allegedly based on the ancient Pharos of Alexandria, resembles the top of the Empire State building on a much shorter tower. There is quirky architecture elsewhere too, the Coliseum (sic) Hotel is a lot like, surprise, surprise, the Colosseum and there is also a facsimile of The White House, only built upside down.

All this smacks of trying too hard; Batumi may want to represent it itself as a fun loving upmarket holiday resort, but there are two good reasons why it will fail - the damp climate, and the beach. I know Brighton has prospered for a couple of centuries or more with a pebble beach, but Batumi's looks like a beach frequented by those (mainly Russians) who have no other beach go to.

The Beach, Batumi

The Lovers, Ali and Nino

The statue of the Lovers by Tamar Kvesitadze is more impressive, despite the tendency of some to use it as an ad hoc changing room. The figures are in motion and over a period of time they move toward each other, kiss and then coalesce. It is popularly known as Ali and Nino, after the classic Azeri novel by Kurban Said, in which Muslim, Azeri Ali and Christian, Georgian Nino fall in love.

Ali and Nino coalesce, Batumi

Central Batumi and Europe Square

Turning back towards the town centre, we walked through some pleasant streets, passing the Apollo Cinema, which is innovative and original without trying too hard...

Apollo Cinema, Batumi

...and the theatre with a statue of Neptune in the park outside…

Theatre, Batumi

… and then Europe Square where Medea holds up the Golden Fleece. The cost made the statue controversial when it was erected in 2007, but I rather like it even if it is the largest statue of a murderous psychopath we have encountered since North Korea.

Medea, Europe Square, Batumi

I like the fountain in front even more; by judiciously selecting your route it is possible to walk through the heart of the fountain and remain almost completely dry.

Walking through the fountain, Europe Square, Batumi

We finished in the main piazza overlooked by the cathedral. It was full of restaurants and although it was getting on for two o'clock - I had indeed noticed it was past my lunchtime – none seemed very busy, nor did they offer what we wanted.

The Piazza, Batumi

Ajaran Khachapuri

The end of the tour was the end of Dinara's responsibilities for the day, but we offered to buy her lunch as it was our last full day. I mentioned khachapuris, Georgia’s traditional cheese pies, quite frequently in the first few posts but just because I have not mentioned them recently it does not mean we had stopped eating them - it is, after all, compulsory in Georgia. Each region had its own variation, mostly there are only slightly differences, but Ajaran khachapuri is distinctive indeed. The bready part is twisted into a boat shape with the melted cheese in the middle, and just before serving, an egg is cracked into it.

You break the yolk and it cooks in the hot cheese, turning into cheesy scrambled egg in a big slab of bread. It is hearty and filling - a strange choice of national dish for a region where the climate is warm and heavy.

Lynne tackles her Ajarian Khachapuri

From the city centre a long slow stroll back to our hotel via the sea front took up most of the afternoon. We saw little we had not observed in the morning, except this fairground version of a bungee jump rocketing youngsters into the sky. It looked like a medieval torture to me, but I am assured the victims were volunteers - indeed they paid for the privilege.

Medieval torture, Batumi

26-Aug-2014

Museum of Ajara

Our plane was not until the afternoon so in the morning we set off to find the Museum of Ajara.

Like any city of comparable international standing (London, Amsterdam and Beijing come immediately to mind) Batumi has a bicycle hire scheme.

Bikes for rent, Batumi

Wide red cycle paths are painted on the pavements. I took a picture of Lynne standing in one. It was not particularly dangerous, apart from along the sea front we had not seen anyone riding a bicycle.

Cycle Path, Batumi

We paused by Batumi's synagogue which was built in 1904, closed by the Soviet authorities in 1929 and returned to its original purpose in 1998. Ownership of the building is now being returned to Batumi's small Jewish community.

Synagogue, Batumi

The museum was a curate’s egg. The first room was full of badly stuffed, moth-eaten birds and animals, but the second was better with a large and very beautiful Greek vase, an ancient sarcophagus converted for Muslim ritual washing, textiles, clothes, assorted household implements and models of traditional local buildings.

Models, Adjara Museum, Batumi

Farewell to Georgia

Back at the hotel we found Alex and he gave us a lift into the town centre. Selecting a suitable pavement café for our last meal in Georgia, we both ordered trout, and were unsurprised to find them as tiny as the trout in Zugdidi, - at least they left room for an ice-cream afterwards. We each had a glass of brown, brackish qvervi-fermented white wine, because it was the last chance we would have. We must have acculturated well because we ordered a second for old time’s sake.

Then it was off to Batumi's small airport where we said goodbye to Alex and Dinara. Alex was a very private man, he spoke no English but even when we attempted to converse through Dinara we obtained little information. He had, though, been thoroughly professional in his approach to his job. Dinara, had been an absolute gem, one of the best guides we have encountered even though it was only a gap year occupation. Her ready smile and easy charm hide a forceful personality and this, along with her keen intellect suggest a promising future.

Saying goodbye to Dinara (with Alex behind the camera), Batumi Airport

That was not quite the end of our holiday. For some reason Turkish Airlines do not see Batumi to Birmingham as being an important link, so rather than spend 14 hours in Atatürk Airport waiting for a connection, we intended to spend a couple of nights in Istanbul - so that will be the next post.

From the Caspian to the Black Sea

Part 1: Baku (1) City of Fire
Part 2: The Qobustan Petroglyphs and the Old City
Part 3: Baku to Şǝki (or Sheki)
Part 4: Sheki (or Şǝki)
Part 5: Into Georgia: Wine Tasting in Kakheti
Part 6: Telavi to Tbilisi via Sighnaghi
Interlude: Tasting Georgian Wine
Part 7: Tbilisi
Part 8: Up the Georgian Military Highway
Part 9: Stepantsminda (Kazbegi) and Tsminda Sameba
Part 10: Uplistsikhe and Gori, Cave Dwellings and Stalin
Part 11: Kutaisi, Zugdidi and the Inguri Valley
Part 12: Mestia: Capital of the Upper Svaneti
Part 13: Ushguli: To the Ends of the Earth
Part 14: South to Adjara
Part 15 Batumi, Capital of Ajara

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Istanbul (4) Taksim Square and the Galata Tower

South to Ajara: Part 14 of from the Caspian to the Black Sea

From the Snows of the Caucusus to the Beaches of the Black Sea

Georgia

South from Mestia

Alex had covered his car in dust and mud on the dirt road from Ushguli but in the morning, just as we expected, the black BMW was gleaming again.

One of the twin peaks of Mt Ushba
At 4,710m (15,450ft) it is by no means the highest mountain in Georgia, but mountaineers consider it the most challenging

We said ‘goodbye’ to Mestia and the Upper Svaneti, leaving by the same road as we had arrived - there is no other way. Descending the Inguri valley we made several stops to photograph mountains, the river and ourselves.

The River Inguri rushes south from the mountains

By mid-morning we were back at Zugdidi and turned westward across the Kolkheti plain towards Poti, Georgia's main port on the Black Sea coast.

The River Rioni reaches the sea here and we crossed it on the outskirts of the town and headed south down the coast. If Jason and the Argonauts went to Kutaisi, the capital of Colchis, in their search for the Golden Fleece, then this was where they left the Black Sea and rowed up the river. There are, as we would soon discover, other sites connected with this story and other contenders for 'where it actually happened' if a myth can be said to have 'actually happened’ anywhere.

We head south in a more leisurely way

Arriving in Ajara

Ajara

We soon entered the Autonomous Republic of Ajara (or, occasionally, Adjara). The province in the south western corner of Georgia, was taken from the Ottomans by the Russian Empire in 1878. In the aftermath of the First World War, with Russia in the grip of civil war, Ajara was jointly occupied by Turkish and British troops. In 1920 it was ceded to the briefly independent Georgia under a treaty guaranteeing special autonomy for Ajara as a largely Muslim province within Christian Georgia. Although the Soviet Union was equally hostile to Islam and Christianity, the Ajar Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic maintained its semi independence when Georgia became part of the USSR in 1921.

Our journey between the seas

We passed through Kobuleti, an out and out seaside resort, with the only sandy beach south of Poti. This is a holiday coast, but most of the best resorts, Dinara told us sadly, were in Abkhazia which is de facto an independent state though to Georgian eyes (and in international law) it is a Russian occupied province of Georgia. We saw holidaymakers' cars registered in Azerbaijan, Armenia, Turkey and, most frequently, Russia. The Russians were particularly plentiful this year as they were forsaking their usual haunts in Crimea for the political stability of Georgia - ironic considering how hard Russia worked to destabilize both Crimea and Abkhazia.

Ajara is in Georgia's south west corner, Abkhazia in the north west

When Georgia regained independence in 1991 Aslan Abashidze, the authoritarian leader of Ajara, kept the region out of the ensuing chaos, ruling with little regard for the Tbilisi government. After the 2003 Rose Revolution central government tried to reassert its authority and for a time it looked like there might be an armed confrontation. Popular demonstrations in Ajara against Abashidze led to his resignation and to Ajara, unlike South Ossetia and Abkhazia, becoming fully and unequivocally part of Georgia. The region retained its special autonomous status, originally negotiated when it was the only Muslim majority region of Georgia, even though today 70% of Ajarians are Christians.

Lunch in Kobuleti

We stopped for lunch south of Kobuleti. Spicy sausages turned out to be less spicy than promised and consisted largely of tripe and fat. We did not feel the need try them again. A cold beer, though, was very welcome on a hot and increasingly sultry afternoon.

Batumi Botanical Gardens

A little further south, within sight of Batumi, the Ajarian capital, we stopped at the Botanical Gardens.

The city of Batumi from the Botanical Gardens

Founded by a Russian in 1912, the gardens were expanded under the Soviet Union and became a centre of study of Caucasian maritime subtropical flora. The 108 hectare site is now home to plants from all over the world.

We arrived at the main gate amid what seemed to be a chaotic scrum of cars. The cause was apparently a wedding party and the parking attendant advised us to drive to the back entrance. By the time we had walked through the park, he said, the jam would have eased and Alex could pick us up at the front.

Getting to the back entrance was not as easy as it sounded. Directed to take the next right off the main road, Alex turned onto a track which petered out among dense vegetation. He was not amused, and he extricated himself with much muttering under the breath; the next right took us to the entrance.

Batumi Botanical Gardens

I am not, by and large, a great fan of botanical gardens (update: except the Peradeniya Gardens in Sri Lanka which are magnificent) and although I like colourful flowers, I cannot claim to be much interested in plants. Sadly, for me anyway, large parts of the Batumi gardens are in fact an arboretum. The trees were well labelled, but the Latin names meant little to me and although they said where they came from, it was not much help. In the absence of something distinctive, like banyans or the huge kapoks of the Cambodian forest, one area of woodland looks much like another.

Batumi Botanical Gardens

I was more interested in the snake working is way along the side of the road. I have tentatively identified it as a Dice Snake; they are apparently widespread across Europe and beyond, but were unfamiliar to me. I was standing close to it and wearing sandals, so I was retrospectively relieved to read that it is harmless.

Dice Snake, Batumi Botanical Gardens

The Botanical gardens were not entirely without their flowers, though.

Batumi Botanical Gardens

The back entrance was near a cliff top and our walk was all downhill to the main entrance. We continued past the entrance to a small station on a single track railway line and then onto the shingle beach beyond. We had started at the Caspian Sea and had now reached the Black Sea, which may not be black, but is a lot blacker than the Red Sea is red.

Railway station, Batumi Botanical Garden

Caspian to Black Sea Completed

We had immersed our hands in the smelly, polluted Caspian at Baku, so this was clearly the moment to remove shoes and march into the Black Sea. It was warm and pleasant but despite the apparently calm there was a strong undertow.

Standing in the Black Sea, Batumi Botanical Gardens

Our day had started among high mountains and now, only a few hours later we were at sea level, my feet were even a short distance below. Georgia is a small country, but the variety of scenery that can be seen in a single day is truly remarkable.

Lynne completes her journey to the Black Sea from the Caspian Sea

I finished my paddle, we found Alex at the now quiet main entrance and he drove us into Batumi.

Reaching Batumi

Batumi is a port, a seaside resort and the capital city of Ajara, its 150,000 residents representing almost half the population of the autonomous republic. It is a hot and humid place – Abkhazia has not just the best beaches, but the pleasantest climate, too.

Away from the front Batumi does not feel like a holiday town; it does not feel like a Georgian town either - Turkey is less than 10km to the south and there is some inevitable influence.

Batumi

Driving to our hotel we passed many large umbrellas set up outside shops – that boded well for eating and drinking we thought. We checked-in, had a shower to wash off the hot and sweaty day and headed out towards the umbrellas expecting restaurants and café/bars but all we found were take-away joints flogging donner kebabs and barbecued sweet corn. After a longish walk towards the seafront we found a café with a line of tables stretched out beside the road. We sat down and a waitress appeared bearing an English language menu – how did she know, we wondered, and not for the first time.

The fare on offer was neither particularly Georgian, nor particularly interesting, but after so many Georgian feasts perhaps it was time for an omelette and chips. I thought I ordered a litre of the usual ‘homemade’ brown white wine, but what turned up was a  carafe of very clear, very bright very white ‘European style’ wine. Perhaps I pointed at the wrong line in the menu, perhaps something was lost in translation, perhaps they thought it best to give foreigners what they were used to or just possibly they took advantage of our assumed ability to afford a wine three times the price of the basic plonk. Whatever the reason, I have to admit it made a pleasant change.

From the Caspian to the Black Sea

Part 1: Baku (1) City of Fire

Part 2: The Qobustan Petroglyphs and the Old City
Part 3: Baku to Şǝki (or Sheki)
Part 4: Sheki (or Şǝki)
Part 5: Into Georgia: Wine Tasting in Kakheti
Part 6: Telavi to Tbilisi via Sighnaghi
Interlude: Tasting Georgian Wine
Part 7: Tbilisi
Part 8: Up the Georgian Military Highway
Part 9: Stepantsminda (Kazbegi) and Tsminda Sameba
Part 10: Uplistsikhe and Gori, Cave Dwellings and Stalin
Part 11: Kutaisi, Zugdidi and the Inguri Valley

Part 12: Mestia: Capital of the Upper Svaneti

Part 13: Ushguli: To the Ends of the Earth
Part 14: South to Adjara

Part 15 Batumi, Capital of Ajara

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Istanbul (4) Taksim Square and the Galata Tower