Into the Heart of Angkor

The woods are lovely; dark and deep. Great trees soar upwards, casting a shadowy green canopy on the forest's ferny floor. Branches and leaves intertwine endlessly; twisting and turning like tentacles of giant reptiles. All is silent and still. A flock of squawking parrots break the hallowed silence. Hidden deep within this overgrown jungle is 800 years of history. I am at the ethereal 12th century temple and monastic complex of "Ta Prohm" in Siem Reap, Cambodia.

Constructed in 1186 AD by King Jayavaram VII, the site was enormously wealthy in its time. History records it was home to more than 12 500 people, 18 high priests and 615 dancers; with an additional 80 000 people providing supportive services.

Now, standing among these silent ruins, I am sadly reminded that all societies must and will decline; all civilizations will rise and fall. But through seasons unchanging, through life and decay; man's incredible will to leave behind a tangible part of himself will remain.

The resident spirits beckon me to explore. Huge blocks of stone lie in heaps undisturbed. The trees wrestle with stonework; cracking, squeezing and forcing the stones apart. Enormous strangler trees of fig, banyan and kapok spread their gigantic roots strangulating the carved stonework. Delicate tendrils like chicken feet wrap themselves around bas reliefs. I walk on through a series of long low buildings, with narrow corridors, passages and overgrown courtyards connecting them. There is a strange harmony at work here. The power of nature in a dual role of encroacher and healer; destroyer and yet preserver. Sanskrit inscriptions and delicately carved stone reliefs of devatas, apsaras, meditating ascetics and dvarapales vie for my attention along with lions, serpents and mythical creatures. There is beauty in the detail here. A strange haunted charm that create a conflict of mood deep within my soul.

I sit on a tree trunk in the central courtyard. The shadows lengthen. The sunlight filters in through the branches of the trees. Time stands still and then travels backwards; not by minutes but by centuries. Am I a time traveller transported to another time to another place? I hear a rustling of leaves, and then, I see him standing before me in the dappled sunlight dressed in royal splendour - King Jayavaram VII. His smile is gentle and compassionate. His eyes powerful and pensive. Am I Queen Jayarajadevi awaiting the return of my husband after many years in exile? He speaks softly and gifts me a set of golden dishes weighing 500 kilos; 350 diamonds; 40 000 pearls; 4000 precious stones; 816 veils and 523 parasols. All around us apsaras dance with graceful gestures. A frog croaks and I am startled back to reality. Opening my eyes I am astonished to see instead of the King, a beady eyed frog, gazing at me with intensity.

Life goes on. The leaves will continue to fall. New roots will find a home here. It's a sobering walk back to reality. But once you have been inside the heart of what was once Angkor - can you ever forget?