Ta Prohm

Ta Prohm is at the opposite end of the spectrum to Angkor Wat. Where the latter has spent much of its life in use and has been, for the most part, well maintained, Ta Prohm is one of the many ruins that has been left to the fate of the jungle…and what a fate! I started my tour of this fascinating ruin by walking along the inside of the perimeter wall from the West to the East gates. Tourists are dropped at the West gate by their guides but, like the majority of the Angkorian monuments, Ta Prohm was built facing East (towards the life-giving rays of the rising sun) and I wanted to approach the inner temple from the direction which its creators had intended. Treading on dead leaves and twigs strewing the narrow path between dense undergrowth and the wall, I became aware of just how quiet my surroundings were. Every step like the fizz and pop of fireworks, echoing off the stone and being swallowed up by the jungle. I stopped to listen to the eerie silence and to appreciate having this ancient ruin to myself. The thick walls were bowed and crumbling with great blocks of stone lying in untidy heaps like the aftermath of giant Jenga. In places it was easy to spot the culprit – massive, gnarled trunks of towering trees that had slowly, imperceptibly expanded outwards to push the walls past their ability to stand. In other places, there seemed to be no reason for the avalanche – perhaps the guilty party having long since died and been swallowed up by the remorseless jungle. Conversely, sections of the wall were being held firmly upright by flying buttresses of root and trunk, the fate of inanimate stone and living organism entwined in a precarious, yet enduring, embrace.
The lower reaches of the walls were virtually covered by a thick tapestry of funnel-shaped webs. The size of some of these was enough to quell any curiosity I had as to the nature of their inhabitants. Visions of flying arachnid assailants avenging the consumption of their deep-fried cousin in Skuon put paid to the urge to poke anything with a stick. Ducking around and under branches was covering me with strands of more conventional webs and I have to admit to being more than a little spooked when I managed to walk face first into a freaky looking spider as I stubbed my toe and tripped over a cunningly concealed root. The little black and yellow monster had a strange, horned carapace which reminded me of a Warhammer Space Marine and I may have said a few unpleasant words as I scrabbled frantically to get the little bugger off me. Once it was safely on the ground, I could see that it wasn’t all that big or threatening and I was sufficiently calmed to be able to take a photo for evidence.
Eventually, after an otherwise pleasant half-hour of walking in solitude, I came to the East gate and the first trickle of other sight-seers.
Passing back through the imposing remains of the gate, I tried to imagine the God-King and his retinue as they processed down the ceremonial road on Hindu holy days. The top of the arch and four-faced carved figurehead of the Hindu deity, Avalokitsheva, had long since crumbled away, but the sheer scale of what remained was enough to convince me of the richness and power of the civilisation that had built them. It must have been a breath-taking sight to see the finery of the king’s entourage in full pomp as they filled the roadway with burnished armour and jewelled costumes. The canopy of towering trees shading the moss-covered remains of the ancient temple gave my surroundings a surreal fantasy aspect. I half expected to hear the musical laughter of elven-folk to come echoing out of the darkness or to round a corner to find a dragon coiled around his treasure in the inner sanctuary. Everywhere you looked there was evidence of the awesome combined powers of Time and Nature. It was plain to see that much effort had gone into clearing and maintaining the grounds to give visitors a better view of the temple’s original layout…but I would have given anything to have been a member of the original group of Frenchmen that stumbled across this treasure in the jungle…I would even have signed up to be French! Trees balanced precariously on rooftops; seemed mid-stride through walls; peered curiously through drunkenly-leaning doorways and made impenetrable shutters over long-darkened windows. Lianas as thick as my thighs draped lazily over eaves and swung carelessly in the slight breeze. Allowed to run wild over so many centuries, Nature had well and truly re-asserted her dominance. Ta Prohm’s fate was a reminder of the ephemeral nature of humanity – even the resources of the mighty Khmer empire could not withstand Nature’s slow, steady onslaught…will our cultures fair any better?