Only few times in life we found ourselves in front of the sublime. It happened today by visiting two stroke Jains in Mount Abu that if Stendhal (that one of the syndrome that affects art lovers in front of the masterpiece) had seen it would have died instantly. The marble white, sometimes pink, turns into lace, with a unique sophistication. The first temple, Vimal Vasahi, has a forest of carved pillars, surrounded by 58 cells with the divine images and a gallery of sculptures of stellar beauty for precision, imagination, quantity. At the center is the central shrine dedicated - you guess to whom? - to Adinath who punished us not having respected his commandments (never kill a living being, mosquito or ant that is). He stared with open eyes, as if to say, "Now you know who I am, right?". Next door is the home of elephants that go in procession to the temple and just beyond the temple number two, Vasahi Moon, which at the center of the vault releases a huge lotus flower of stratospheric beauty, embroidery unthinkable to consider it in marble. And then the stories of these gods told in detail, rich in shapes that spring from devotion, virtuosity and the religiosity of those who carved them seven centuries ago. The prohibition of photographing is done strictly enforced. However, our hearts were so filled with joy that, at night, to attain nirvana, with Giancarlo we cooked for everybody pasta with garlic, oil and tomato.
