Tess on My Mind
I first learned about Stonehenge not in a history book but through the pages of Thomas Hardy’s novel Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Years later, that literary image took shape and substance when I watched Roman Polanski’s 1979 film Tess, with Nastassja Kinski embodying the fragile heroine, her figure dwarfed by the monumental stones in the film’s haunting denouement. Even after decades, this image remained etched in my memory, a symbol of human helplessness before destiny.
So, last month, when my travels took me to London and then to Maidenhead, a quiet town known for its 19th-century coaching inns, I discovered that Stonehenge was just 63 miles from Maidenhead. The image of Tess standing against the inscrutable stones resurfaced. I decided I had to visit Stonehenge. Without further ado, I booked the entry tickets online and a cab to take me there.
The morning of the trip was grey and overcast with a forecast of imminent rain. Wearing warm jackets and armed with umbrellas, we set off. Our cab, a black Tesla, rolled up with the driver cheerily calling out, “Satsriakal janab.” Let me add that my husband’s turban identifies us as Sikhs, hence, the greeting.
Our driver, Mushtaq, was from Multan in Pakistan and felt a strong camaraderie with Indians. We spent a happy hour talking to him about our common inheritance, Brexit, Tesla and a million other things as we cruised past the autumn-tinted countryside and rolling fields, dotted with sheep.
Once in a while, Mushtaq would unobtrusively slip in a historical tidbit. He told us that Stonehenge is situated on Salisbury Plain, which was a key part of Wessex. As this was the setting for most of Hardy’s novels, I could almost imagine Henchard or Eustacia, the iconic protagonists of his novels, striding across the countryside.
Well-travelled Stones
As we neared the ancient site, we spotted the signature stones standing against the overcast sky. Mushtaq told us that Stonehenge was older than the pyramids of Giza and that some of its stones had travelled all the way from Wales. “Nobody knows how they got there,” he shrugged. As the car moved up the slope leading to the Visitors’ Centre, we saw several huge mounds atop ridges, breaking the smooth lines of the rolling hillside. These, our driver told us, were ancient burial grounds. He added with a chuckle, “This property was initially purchased by one Sir Cecil Chubb, because he thought his wife might like it.”
By now, we had reached the parking lot leading up to the Visitors’ Centre, a modern-looking structure of steel and glass. Juxtaposed against the ancient, craggy stones of Stonehenge, it accentuated their rough-hewn beauty. Once our tickets were scanned, we entered the audiovisual pavilion that transported us into the immersive world of the Neolithic man. Next came the museum with its motley display of archaeological artefacts and the reconstructed Neolithic dwellings.
Still Standing Tall
Finally, we boarded a shuttle that would take us to Stonehenge. As we peered out of the window, Stonehenge rose like a ragged silhouette, etched against the grey sky. The stones that had appeared small against the vastness of the countryside seemed to rear up like mammoth beasts scarred by 5,000 years of vagaries, yet, still standing tall and statuesque. For a whimsical instant, it looked like an open-air cathedral, ready for its morning service.
Our guide told us that every year during the summer and winter solstice, Stonehenge is overrun by druids in robes, pagans welcoming the sun, visitors dancing, chanting or simply watching the sunrise. Then he pointed at the stone that was lying a little outside the circle. This was called the “heel stone”, he told us. It aligns with the sunrise on the summer solstice when viewed from the centre of the stone circle. The image of the sun threading a golden needle through the heart of the monument, stitching earth and sky together for a fleeting moment, flashed before my inner eye. “As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods,” I thought, feeling puny, much like Tess must have felt.
Back home, a friend asked, “Why Stonehenge? After all, they are just stones”. The monument has endured for five millennia through weather, ritual and human upheaval. Our brief lives, in comparison, are small and transient. That’s why, my friend, they are not just stones!
Rachna Singh is an author and the Editor of The Wise Owl, a literary and arts magazine
