What would you do if you became the ruler of an empire with a history spanning centuries and known among its neighbors for its majestic temples? For Jayavarman VII, the king of the Khmer Empire in the late 12th century CE, the answer was simple: build more.
His realm was no stranger to grand monuments. From Pre Rup which was made from laterite to the magnificent Angkor Wat, generations of ancient Khmer people certainly knew how to build to impress. After ascending the throne following his successful military campaigns against the occupying Cham forces, Jayavarman VII embarked on a construction spree with a scale the empire had rarely seen before. He commissioned Angkor Thom, an entirely new capital with an extraordinary Buddhist state temple, known today as Bayon, right at the heart of the walled center of power. He also improved the infrastructure in and around the city, while adding public facilities for the benefit of his people.
While enigmatic giant faces are among the most distinctive architectural features from this period in the empire’s history, modern-day visitors are also drawn to the atmospheric setting of some temples and monasteries built during Jayavarman VII’s rule. One of them is now famous for the many giant roots enveloping the stone walls and roofs of the edifices, resulting in a precarious situation where nature is slowly consuming the man-made structures. Better known today as Ta Prohm, the photogenic ancient compound to the east of Angkor Thom is believed to have been built to honor the king’s mother. Of course, he made sure to commission another one to be dedicated to his father.
Situated directly to the northeast of the capital, Preah Khan was conceived as an important religious and education institution comprising a Buddhist temple and a university. Occupying 56 hectares and now largely covered in trees, the moat-surrounded compound was like a city within a city, with tens of thousands of people working and studying there. Entrances to the walled enclosure were built at the four cardinal directions, each adorned with devas on the left and asuras on the right holding the body of a naga, mirroring the same statues found along the bridges to Angkor Thom. The main structure of Preah Khan sits right in the middle of the nearly square plot with each gopura (gateway) bearing a lintel decorated with different scenes from Hindu mythology.
Like Ta Prohm, Preah Khan was only partially restored with the rest of the compound purposefully left in its ruined state. But unlike Ta Prohm that sees a steady stream of visitors, Preah Khan was a lot quieter when we went, allowing us to explore this single-story structure at a more relaxed pace. It was fun walking from one chamber to another, marveling at the elaborate carvings with the sight of leaning walls supported by wooden beams appearing every now and then. A few steps away from a hall decorated with dancing apsaras, the only two-story structure within the compound came into view. It is in fact the only surviving building in such form in all of Angkor.
Vonn, our trusted remork driver, told us that Preah Khan was his favorite ancient Khmer temple, and it was easy to see why. However, this impressive monument experienced a bout of violent change with a lot of Buddhist iconography damaged when the grandson of Jayavarman VII ascended the throne and restored Hinduism as the state religion. But the irreversible decline of this compound truly began around the 15th century when the royal family ended their support of the temple, depleting the resources the institution needed to continue running.
Devas holding the body of Vasuki, a naga, during the so-called Churning of the Ocean of Milk
One of the inner gateways to the main temple
This lintel depicts Vishnu reclining on Shesha, another naga, with Lakshmi sitting near his feet
A great city would not survive without securing its access to water all year round. Probably inspired by the gigantic East and West Barays, man-made rectangular lakes constructed between the 10th – 11th centuries CE near the administrative seat of Angkor, Jayavarman VII commissioned a new, albeit smaller, reservoir directly to the east of Preah Khan. Called the Jayatataka Baray, it was dug out in similar proportions following a rectangular plan like the other two. And as dictated by tradition, a mebon temple was built in the middle of the artificial lake.
Neak Pean, the present-day name of Jayatataka Baray’s mebon temple, was constructed as a hospital, although not in a modern sense. Instead, it was equipped with four square tanks connected to the main pond via stone conduits. Bathing in these pools was believed to cure ailments by balancing the sick person’s elements. At the center of it stood a temple originally dedicated to Avalokitesvara, the bodhisattva of compassion.
The name of the temple itself is attributed to the sculptures of naga – celestial serpentine beings often depicted in ancient Hindu and Buddhist temples in Asia – found at the base of the structure. In fact, the word neak is the Khmer pronunciation of naga. Curiously, as we were crossing the long footbridge to reach the temple in the middle of the lake, a ‘naga’ was spotted coiling around a wooden pole of the railing. Not knowing whether it was venomous or not, we warned some people to be careful around the snake. As we cautiously walked past it, I observed the serpent’s green scales glistening in the sun. It was quite a beautiful sight to be honest, although I later learned that it might have been a Chrysopelea ornata, also known as the gliding tree snake. (I am glad we didn’t see it gliding from a tree toward the footbridge!)
The stele of Preah Khan tells us what Jayavarman VII thought about his artificial lake which, in his words, was like “a mirror with an island charmed by pools that cleanse the sins of those who come into contact with the water, serving as a vessel to cross the Ocean of Existence.” Although no one dipped their toes in the water to test whether it would really cure their ailments, one thing still holds true. The Jayatataka during our visit was still like a mirror as the king had intended it to be many centuries ago.
As my eyes gazed upon the dense forest at the eastern end of the lake, another temple believed by some to also honor the king’s father lurked behind the trees.
Reflections of the sky on the Jayatataka Baray
In the past, this served as a ‘hospital’ during the reign of Jayavarman VII