Khajuraho Temples

The temples of Khajuraho, a UNESCO World Heritage site located in Madhya Pradesh, India, are renowned for their intricate sculptures that celebrate the full spectrum of human life—spiritual, sensual, and mundane. Constructed between the 10th and 12th centuries CE under the rule of the Chandela dynasty, these temples have drawn global attention for their uninhibited erotic carvings. While most focus has traditionally been directed toward heterosexual imagery, the presence of male same-sex activity in the sculptural program offers a rare and illuminating glimpse into a pre-modern Indian worldview that acknowledged, depicted, and integrated diverse expressions of desire, including male-male eroticism, without censure.

 

Among the 85 temples originally built at Khajuraho, 22 remain today. Temples like the Kandariya Mahadeva, Lakshmana, and Vishvanatha house the majority of the erotic sculptures. These carvings are typically located on the outer walls and are interspersed among depictions of deities, mythical creatures, daily life, and celestial beings. In this context, the erotic is not marginal or profane—it is part of a holistic worldview that includes kama (desire) as one of the four essential goals of life, alongside dharma (duty), artha (prosperity), and moksha (liberation).

Within this framework, scenes of male same-sex activity appear—never as the dominant theme, but as a recognized and unashamed element of human and divine experience. One well-documented relief on the Kandariya Mahadeva Temple portrays three male figures: two engaged in what appears to be anal intercourse while the third supports or observes. The composition, carved with anatomical clarity and sensual expressiveness, is neither hidden nor diminutive. Instead, it is seamlessly integrated with other sexual depictions, suggesting that such interactions were not viewed as abnormal or unworthy of representation.

The Khajuraho sculptures are informed by Tantric philosophy, which celebrates the union of opposites—male and female, mortal and divine, physical and spiritual. Tantra does not moralize sexual behavior but instead sees it as a path to transcendence when practiced with awareness and ritual purpose. In such a framework, the body is not a source of shame but a vehicle for experiencing and accessing the sacred. This philosophical backdrop helps explain the inclusion of non-normative sexualities in the temple art.

Moreover, the historical Indian worldview, as evidenced in ancient texts like the Kama Sutra and the Natyashastra, acknowledged and codified categories for male-male desire. The Kama Sutra describes the behavior of the kliba—a term that included a variety of gender-nonconforming or homosexual individuals—and elaborates on oral sex between men without moral condemnation. The presence of male same-sex depictions at Khajuraho may be seen as a visual extension of these texts, reflecting their acceptance within elite court and religious circles.

The British colonial period marked a turning point in the interpretation of Indian art and sexuality. Victorian sensibilities, combined with Christian morality, led to a widespread suppression of India’s diverse sexual past. Erotic art was dismissed as “obscene” or “degenerate,” and the Khajuraho sculptures were either censored or misinterpreted. The presence of male same-sex acts, in particular, was downplayed or ignored in early archaeological reports, a silence that endured into much of the 20th century.

Only in recent decades have Indian and international scholars begun to reassess Khajuraho through lenses unclouded by colonial morality. Researchers such as Devdutt Pattanaik and Ruth Vanita have foregrounded these representations as evidence of a more fluid and inclusive premodern Indian culture. In doing so, they challenge modern narratives that frame homosexuality as a “Western import” or a postcolonial phenomenon.

The male same-sex depictions at the Khajuraho Temples serve as powerful reminders of a historical moment when erotic plurality was not stigmatized but sculpted in stone for the divine and the earthly to witness. These carvings do not merely reflect acts of physical pleasure—they symbolize a cultural acceptance of the full range of human desire. As India and the world continue to grapple with questions of sexual identity and historical memory, the Khajuraho temples stand as enduring monuments to a time when the sacred and the sensual, including love between men, coexisted without shame.

 

In recognizing and reclaiming these images, we honor a forgotten legacy—one that whispers across time from temple walls that have seen centuries, reminding us that queerness is not an aberration in Indian history, but a thread woven into its very cultural fabric.