Konark Temple Will Collapse?
Concerns over the structural integrity of the 13th-century Sun Temple at Konark have prompted delays in the Archaeological Survey of India’s decision to remove century-old sand from its assembly hall.
There’s trouble brewing by the Bay of Bengal, and it’s not just the salty wind whispering through the dunes. The 13th-century Sun Temple at Konark—one of India’s architectural crown jewels—is in the eye of a storm, as the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) continues to dither over a rather dicey decision: to remove or not to remove the century-old sand packed inside its assembly hall, the Jagamohana.
Now, the Black Pagoda, as the temple is fondly dubbed, hasn’t had an easy ride. Back in the early 1900s, British engineers, faced with the crumbling grandeur of the temple, decided to stuff its belly with sand and close the doors—quite literally—to prevent its collapse. Over a century later, the sand has settled and subsided by 17 feet, leaving the inner sanctum looking rather worse for wear, while modern archaeologists scratch their heads and play a game of hot potato with the fate of the structure.
Plans to evacuate the sand were floated—one might say trumpeted—with much fanfare three years ago. But as it stands, it’s all talk and no trousers. Not a single grain has been touched, while INTACH (Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage) Odisha chapter is now ringing the alarm bells. The temple’s structural integrity is wobbling, and the proverbial can has been kicked down the road far too many times.
And here lies the rub. Removing the sand is no walk in the park. A senior ASI official, speaking under the cloak of anonymity, put it rather poetically: “Who will bell the cat?” If the effort goes pear-shaped and the Konark temple comes tumbling down, there’s the risk of being vilified as Kalapahada—the villain of Odia history who ravaged temples in the 16th century. But if the mission succeeds, the braveheart behind it may be hailed as Dharmapada—the legendary 12-year-old boy who, with a touch of genius, completed the temple’s crown and sacrificed himself to save the honour of its sculptors.
It’s a devil and the deep blue sea sort of affair.
Former top cop and current state convenor of INTACH, AB Tripathy, is not mincing words. “The evacuation of sand is a pressing issue. The lateral pressure on the walls of the Konark temple is a ticking time bomb.” He’s already made overtures to the culture minister, reminding the powers that be of the 2010 international conference that recommended sand removal and the 2020 declaration by Union Minister Prahlad Singh Patel to make it so.
But despite platforms being erected and high-tech inspections—including laser scans and temple ‘endoscopies’—the matter remains stuck in limbo. Senior officials admit that the original conservation efforts were something of a bodge job, done in an era where structural engineering had barely found its feet. With columns collapsed and iron beams strewn like pick-up sticks, the decision at the time to ram the core full of sand seemed the best of a bad lot.
Now, however, the fear is palpable. Taking out the sand is akin to pulling the tablecloth from under a set dinner without breaking the china. One wrong move, and it’s curtains for one of India’s most iconic heritage sites.
Yet, delay has its own costs. As the days roll on and the sand continues to shift, the threat of irreparable damage looms large. If no action is taken soon, we may be left crying over spilt sand.
In the words of a well-worn British idiom, it’s high time someone took the bull by the horns. The world is watching, Odia pride is at stake, and dithering will no longer do. Whether it ends in disaster or glory, history will remember those who dared to decide.
Originally published in The Telegraph
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