As dawn gently emerged over the mountain ranges, My Son seemed to awaken, cloaked in soft golden hues, the delicate light glistening across each ancient stone.
Kien Quoc and Sari quietly stepped into the valley, where the silhouettes of towering ancient structures gradually emerged from the lingering mist. The smooth, deep-red bricks, adorned with intricate carvings, remained resilient, silently bearing witness to a civilization long past.
Birdsong echoed softly through the valley, enhancing the sacred stillness of the dawn. Kien Quoc knelt, touching each weathered stone, sensing both their rough textures and enduring vitality.
They both noticed small square holes carved into some of the stones. "These were likely used to insert wooden beams to move heavy stones," Sari explained thoughtfully, intrigued by the ingenuity.
They stood in silence, imagining ancient Champa craftsmen using remarkable techniques to build the majestic towers without mortar. As they ventured deeper into the valley, a surprising realization struck them: My Son, Tra Kieu, and Cham Island aligned perfectly along a straight axis.
"This alignment can't be accidental," Kien Quoc remarked thoughtfully. "Perhaps the Champa carefully calculated these sites along a spiritual or astronomical axis."
Sari nodded in agreement, carefully documenting their discovery, viewing it as another puzzle piece in understanding Champa civilization. Intrigued, Kien Quoc searched his tablet for insights into Champa's sacred geography. He came across an insightful post from the "Love Cham Towers and Culture" Facebook group.
Kien Quoc began to read aloud:
"Tra Kieu, the ancient capital located in the Thu Bon River valley, was a crucial cultural, political, and religious hub of the Champa kingdom. Strategically positioned, it served not only as a capital but also as a central point for establishing neighboring temple complexes like My Son and Chiem Son."
"Tra Kieu was spiritually protected by eight deities (Aṣṭa-Dikpāla), each guarding one cardinal direction, creating a robust defensive and spiritual framework aligned with the natural landscape. To the North, along the Thu Bon River, Kubera, the god of wealth and fortune, presided. This direction represented abundance and vital water resources nurturing the capital."
"The Northeast was under Ishana, a form of Shiva symbolizing creation and destruction, coinciding with the ancient ruins on Cham Island, reflecting timeless sacred power."
"Eastward, Ong Island was overseen by Indra, the god of weather and war, safeguarding the city from threats."
"To the Southeast, the Golden Mountain was governed by Agni, the fire god, indicated by remnants suggesting rituals centered on sacred flames."
"The South was protected by Yama, god of death, symbolizing the profound balance between life and death."
"Southwest lay Nui Chua and My Son, connected to Goddess Nirrita, representing decay and transition, where the Champa royal tombs stood."
"The West, including Champa and Trien Tranh groups, was guarded by Varuna, the god of water and administration."
"The Northwest, marked by Chua Mountain (Ba Na), was under Vayu, the wind god, revered for purity and strength, with nearby inscriptions at Hon Cup and Chiem Son further hinting at connections still under study."
"Tra Kieu thus stood centrally in a meticulously planned spiritual network defined by natural landmarks like Son Cha, Cham Island, and Ba Na mountains, forming a sacred circle precisely 33.765 km in radius. Eastern, northeastern, and northwestern directions were assigned the strongest protective deities, defending against vulnerabilities from rivers and seas."
Concluding, the text described Tra Kieu as a testament to the intricate balance the Champa civilization achieved between humanity and divinity, culture and nature.
Sari sat in reflective silence, her eyes fixed on the screen in deep thought. "Incredible," she finally said. "The ancient Champa people weren't just skilled artisans but also experts in geography and spiritual planning. If accurate, their approach to constructing capitals and temples was remarkably advanced for their time."
(Source images and materials by freelance researcher Le Tri Cong.)
While exploring, Kien Quoc and Sari encountered a group of Indian experts diligently working on a restoration project for the ancient towers. The team meticulously cleaned and stabilized damaged sections, their modest attire and dirt-covered hands revealing the intensity of their work.
One expert, Mr. Vijay, greeted them warmly and struck up a conversation. "The Champa civilization was heavily influenced by Indian culture, yet their building techniques had uniquely distinct characteristics," he shared with pride and admiration.
Kien Quoc and Sari attentively listened as Mr. Vijay recounted the challenges of restoration—from sourcing suitable materials to carefully studying the towers' original structures. Listening closely, Kien Quoc felt a profound connection between the Champa and Indian cultures, reflected not only in architecture but also in their shared commitment to preserving historical heritage.
"These My Son towers have lasted centuries not just because of Champa's remarkable construction techniques, but also due to their mysterious harmony with natural and spiritual elements," Mr. Vijay explained further. "People often describe these towers as living entities, as though they possess souls nourished by nature itself."
He continued, delving into the secrets of their construction methods. "The bricks were fired at extremely high temperatures, producing extraordinary hardness and smooth surfaces that resist rainwater and moss. They're precisely laid without mortar, creating structures remarkably resilient against time, weather, and natural elements."
Yet, what truly distinguished the towers as "living entities" was their interactive relationship with their environment. "They were typically built near streams or water sources, allowing mountain water to flow naturally through the foundations," Mr. Vijay continued. "Rainwater seeps into the bricks and escapes through small crevices, allowing the towers to 'breathe' and preventing the stagnation and decay common in other buildings."
Equally significant was the spiritual symbolism embedded in the architecture. "In Champa philosophy, the towers weren't merely temples dedicated to Hindu deities like Shiva but also represented cosmic harmony between sky, earth, and humanity. Their pointed tops reach skyward, symbolizing celestial energy descending to blend with subterranean waters rising from the earth, thus creating balance. The water flowing through the towers acts like a perpetual purification ritual, maintaining their sacredness over generations. This spiritual significance is why local communities deeply cherish and protect My Son, regarding it as a sacred living entity beyond mere physical value."
Thanks to the sophisticated interplay of advanced construction, nature's rhythms, and profound spiritual symbolism, the My Son towers have endured countless historical upheavals, standing majestically across time.
After enjoying a simple lunch, Kien Quoc and Sari relaxed beneath the shade of an ancient tree near a crumbling tower. The peaceful silence was gently broken by the whisper of wind and birdsong echoing through the valley.
As he checked his watch—exactly noon—a familiar voice resonated clearly in his mind—gentle yet authoritative, like the whisper of an unseen force:
"You must continue on this path."
Exchanging a curious look, Kien Quoc and Sari stood and cautiously proceeded along a narrow trail, nearly hidden by tall grasses and large stones, leading behind the collapsed tower. The pathway appeared ancient and long abandoned. After a short distance, they discovered a large fissure in the ground revealing a staircase descending into darkness.
The stone steps were meticulously arranged, bordered by walls adorned with ancient yet intricate carvings. Sari hesitated briefly, excitement and uncertainty mingling in her voice, "Are we really going down there?"
"Definitely," Kien Quoc affirmed, excitement evident in his eyes. "That voice was guiding us—I'm certain something important awaits below."
Slowly, they descended the steps, their quiet footsteps echoing softly in the narrow passage. Cool air seeped through small crevices in the walls, cleverly channeled away from the path by expertly designed drainage grooves. Despite the blazing summer heat above, the subterranean air remained pleasantly cool.
Sari gently touched the walls, feeling the smooth, cool stone, polished over centuries by hidden streams. "This is extraordinary," she whispered, awe in her voice. "How could the ancient people construct such an intricate water system?"
They walked in thoughtful silence as the corridor descended further, the daylight above gradually fading. Just as darkness seemed ready to envelop them completely, a soft glow appeared ahead, drawing them onward.
They stepped into a vast underground hall—its sheer scale and splendor left them breathless. Stone lanterns scattered throughout emitted a gentle, moonlight-like glow, illuminating the vast space with a surreal brilliance. In the hall's center stood a golden palace, its silver accents and embedded gems sparkling under the soft illumination.
The walls and ceilings displayed masterful Champa carvings—flowing wave patterns, images of dragons and phoenixes, and exquisitely blooming lotus petals. Statues of gods and kings positioned upon stone pedestals encircled the palace, seemingly alive and vigilantly observing the newcomers.
Entranced, Kien Quoc and Sari moved closer, deeply captivated by each beautifully crafted deity.
The statue of Nandin, the bull-headed deity and loyal mount of Shiva, stood majestically before them. He wore an elaborately carved crown, and his penetrating eyes seemed to gaze directly into the depths of the human soul. His muscular form was powerful and imposing, each defined muscle radiating a protective and supernatural strength.
Beside him stood the Creator God Shiva, serene and composed, with raised hands standing gracefully upon a lotus pedestal. Streams appeared to flow gently from his hands, symbolizing eternal creation. Every detail—from the intricately sculpted robes to the finely crafted jewelry—spoke eloquently of eternity and boundless creative power.
Facing Shiva, the statue of the God of Destruction emanated a fierce and awe-inspiring presence. Surrounded by a ring of flames symbolizing the cyclical nature of destruction and rebirth, his eyes, embedded with fiery red jade, gleamed with immense power and intensity.
Nearby stood statues of kings adorned in royal garments, their robes and crowns embellished with gold and jade. Their authoritative gazes appeared to look beyond the present, overseeing the fate of an entire kingdom.
In another part of the hall, stone statues of Apsara dancers were interspersed with living dancers. These women were adorned in stunning garments of gold and pearls, blending elegance and allure. Silk ribbons wrapped gracefully around their bodies, accentuating their vivid beauty and form. Their arms moved rhythmically, each gesture weaving mythical stories.
The resonant sounds of the gui-nang drums and saranai trumpets filled the air, enveloping Kien Quoc and Sari in an enchanting realm where divine beings and mortals united in sacred dance.
Sari blinked, scarcely believing her eyes. The Apsara dancers were not lifeless carvings—they moved fluidly, mesmerizing in their beauty. Delicate silk fluttered gently with each graceful gesture. "Is this… an illusion? Or perhaps a sacred ritual repeated through the ages?" she wondered, holding her breath and stepping cautiously, fearful of disturbing the extraordinary moment.
Continuing onward, the soft glow from the stone lamps illuminated a statue of Thanh Mai clearly—a figure majestic yet gentle, her presence like a spirit dwelling among ancient stone walls. Sari whispered softly, almost to herself, "This place… is more than just historical ruins. It feels alive…"
Kien Quoc stood quietly, eyes transfixed by the surreal scene. "It's incredible to think something like this could have existed here, beneath the earth, for centuries."
They stood together silently, reluctant to speak, afraid any sound might disturb the mystical and sacred atmosphere that enveloped them.
Kien Quoc stepped into the next room, softly illuminated by the gentle glow of stone lanterns that shimmered across walls etched with intricate carvings. Although smaller than the main hall of worship, the room held an atmosphere of profound reverence. Polished black stone altars displayed statues and reliefs of eminent figures—perhaps heroes or individuals revered for their contributions to Champa.
As he moved slowly through the room, Kien Quoc felt an inexplicable respect for the figures depicted. His gaze settled upon a white marble statue of a woman positioned prominently at the center altar. He stepped back instinctively, breath catching in his throat. The statue's serene gaze locked with his, stirring a haunting sense of recognition. The elegant features, the gentle yet mysterious expression—it was undeniably her.
It wasn't just surprise—it was a profound, almost spiritual recognition, as if he'd encountered this woman not just in dreams but perhaps in another lifetime altogether. Memories from his dream surged vividly into his consciousness: the traditional Champa attire, the flowing sarong, the enigmatic smile, and eyes deep with history. Everything matched perfectly, as though the woman had traversed centuries to await this moment.
"Impossible…" Kien Quoc whispered, stepping closer to gently touch the cold altar. Illuminated by the lantern's glow, the statue seemed almost alive, eyes filled with gentle reassurance and quiet trust.
Noticing his emotional reaction, Sari approached quietly. "What is it?" she asked softly.
Kien Quoc hesitated, then gestured toward the statue, his voice trembling slightly, "It's her—the woman from my dream."
Following his gaze, Sari's curiosity deepened. "You mean the woman who appeared to you? Is this really her?"
Reading the inscription carefully, Kien Quoc felt his heart race. "Sri Parameswari—Thanh Mai," he murmured, emotions overwhelming him. The dream felt suddenly tangible—every detail no longer a fantasy but a vivid reality.
Sari translated softly, reverently, "Her name was Sri Parameswari, also known as Thanh Mai by the Vietnamese—a courageous young woman from Dai Viet. The inscription says she became a legendary figure in Champa history, revered for her bravery and unyielding spirit. Despite her origins, she dedicated herself entirely to protecting Champa, the land that sheltered her during her darkest times."
Kien Quoc felt a deep sense of awe and wonder at Sari's words. "Sri Parameswari…" he repeated softly, the name resonating within him.
Sari continued, "It is said her spirit remains here, protecting Champa's sacred heritage. Those who dream or feel guided by her are believed to have a special purpose related to preserving Champa's history and culture."
Hearing this, Kien Quoc felt a sacred and profound calling rise within him. Was it truly a message from the past—a calling meant only for him? Had he been chosen for a purpose greater than he'd ever imagined?
In the serene silence of the shrine, only their gentle breaths broke the stillness. The path ahead seemed clearer, yet filled with mysteries yet to unravel.