Latest / The Khmer Empire: The Lost Civilization Behind Angkor Wat — Fexingo History / The Apsara Dance: Angkor's Celestial Dancers and Khmer Identity
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about the big stone temples, the waterworks, the kings. But there's one thing that runs through all of it — something you see on almost every wall of Angkor Wat. Luna: You mean the dancing figures? The apsaras? Lucas: Exactly. The celestial dancers. I think there are something like two thousand apsara carvings just at Angkor Wat alone. And they weren't just decoration — they were a core part of how the Khmer kings understood their world. Lucas: The word apsara comes from Sanskrit, meaning 'moving in the water' or 'between the waters.' In Hindu mythology, they're female spirits who live in the heavens and dance for the gods. They're beautiful, they're seductive, they're eternal. Luna: So the Khmer kings were basically putting heaven on their temple walls. Lucas: That's exactly it. If you're building a temple to a god, you want to recreate the divine realm. And what's heaven without dancers? But here's the thing — the carvings are not just generic pretty women. They're highly individualised. Different hairstyles, different jewellery, different poses. Lucas: Scholars have catalogued nearly eighteen hundred distinct devatas at Angkor — that's a related term, devata, which is a guardian deity. The apsaras are more celestial entertainers, while devatas are protective spirits. But on the walls, they blur together. Luna: Wait — eighteen hundred? That's an incredible number. Lucas: It is. And they're not all in one place. You find them on pillars, on lintels, on the walls of corridors, even on roofs. The most famous are the ones dancing in the central sanctuary of Angkor Wat. They're depicted with graceful hand gestures — what in classical Khmer dance are called kbach — and they wear elaborate headdresses and sampot skirts. Lucas: Now, the dance itself wasn't just a myth. The Khmer court actually had a troupe of royal dancers. We know this from Zhou Daguan, the Chinese diplomat who visited Angkor in the 1290s. He writes about seeing young women dancing in the temples, dressed in gold and jewels, performing for the king. Luna: He mentions that in his book, right? The one we talked about in episode 59. Lucas: That's the one. He says that the king had a harem of dancers, and they were among the most prized possessions. Their training started young — maybe seven or eight years old — and they learned highly stylised movements that could tell stories from the Ramayana or the Mahabharata without a single word. Lucas: This is where it gets really interesting. The Khmer dance tradition almost certainly came from India originally. There are references in Sanskrit inscriptions to dance manuals — one inscription at Preah Khan mentions a 'dance school' with over six hundred teachers and students. Luna: That's a huge institution. Lucas: Huge. And you can see the Indian influence in the hand gestures. In classical Indian dance, there are specific mudras — hand positions — that represent different concepts. The Khmer developed their own version, which survives today in the Royal Ballet of Cambodia. Lucas: Speaking of surviving — this tradition had a near-death experience in the twentieth century. Under the Khmer Rouge in the 1970s, dancers and musicians were targeted as symbols of the old regime. It's estimated that up to ninety percent of Cambodia's classical artists were killed. Luna: That's devastating. Lucas: It is. But the tradition didn't die. A handful of dancers survived, and after the Vietnamese invasion in 1979, they began teaching a new generation. One of the most famous was a woman named Pen Sok Chek, who had been a royal dancer in the 1960s. She helped reconstruct the repertoire from memory. Lucas: In 2003, UNESCO proclaimed the Royal Ballet of Cambodia a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity. So the apsaras who danced for Suryavarman II in the twelfth century are still, in a way, dancing today. Luna: It's amazing that a living tradition can connect back to those stone carvings. Lucas: And the carvings themselves are a record. Archaeologists and art historians have studied the apsaras to understand things like ancient jewellery styles, fabric patterns, even cosmetic practices. Some of the dancers have what looks like a red stain on their lips, which might be a form of ancient lipstick. Luna: Wait, really? They can tell that from stone? Lucas: In some cases, traces of pigment survive. The temples were originally painted — bright colours. Most of it has worn away, but in sheltered spots, you can still find red, black, and gold. So the apsaras weren't just grey stone; they would have been vivid. Lucas: And this is something you see less often in the carvings of other cultures. Greek kore statues, for example, have the Archaic smile, but they're static. The Khmer apsaras are in motion — they're dancing, they're alive. Luna: So when you're walking through Angkor Wat, you're surrounded by a frozen performance. Lucas: Exactly. And that performance tells a story. One of the most famous panels at Angkor Wat is the Churning of the Ocean of Milk, and in that scene, the apsaras are born from the ocean as it's churned by gods and demons. So they're literally created from the cosmos. Lucas: There's also a darker side. Some of the devatas at Angkor were damaged during the iconoclastic period under Jayavarman VIII, when Hindu images were defaced. You can see marks on the faces and bodies of some carvings — an attempt to kill the spirit within the stone. Luna: So even the dancers weren't safe from religious conflict. Lucas: No, but they survived. And today, they're one of the most recognisable symbols of Cambodia. You see apsara imagery everywhere — on souvenirs, in hotel lobbies, on the national airline. They've become an emblem of Khmer identity. Lucas: You know, it's a reminder that history isn't just in books. It's in dance, in gesture, in the way people move. When a classical dancer in Phnom Penh performs a piece from the Reamker — that's the Khmer version of the Ramayana — they're reenacting something that was performed in Angkor a thousand years ago. Luna: That's the kind of continuity that makes history feel alive. Lucas: It really does. And speaking of keeping things alive — we should mention how this show stays alive. A small handful of listeners support us monthly through buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. That's literally what allows us to research and produce these episodes without ads. If you've been enjoying this series on the Khmer Empire, that kind of support is what keeps the whole thing going. Luna: Yeah, it's a direct line between the listener and what we do. No middlemen, no sponsors. Lucas: Anyway, back to the dancers. One thing I find fascinating is that the apsaras weren't just confined to the temples. They appear on the walls of the royal palace too, and on the Terrace of the Leper King. They were everywhere the king wanted to assert his cosmic authority. Lucas: And there's a gender dimension. The apsaras are always female, always beautiful, always available to please. But the devatas include male figures too, though they're rarer. The message is that the divine realm is a place of harmony, pleasure, and beauty — and the king is the one who brings that to earth. Luna: So the dancers are political propaganda in a way. Lucas: Absolutely. The king isn't just a ruler; he's the guarantor of cosmic order. And what better way to show that than by filling his temple with heavenly nymphs? It's soft power, but carved in stone. Lucas: There's also a practical element. The dancers themselves were part of the temple economy. Inscriptions at Ta Prohm mention that the temple had over six hundred dancers, singers, and musicians attached to it. They were supported by land grants and rice donations. Luna: So they were like temple employees, not just slaves. Lucas: More like dedicated servants, yes. They had status. Some of them might even have been high-born women given to the temple as an act of piety. It was considered meritorious to sponsor a dancer. Lucas: And the connection between dance and religion is still strong in Cambodia today. At many Buddhist festivals, classical dance performances are offered as a form of worship. The dancers are seen as making merit for the community. Luna: So the apsaras have come full circle — from heaven to stone to living performance. Lucas: Exactly. And that's what makes them such a powerful symbol. They're not just relics of a lost empire. They're a living thread that connects modern Cambodia to its ancient past. Every time a dancer lifts her hand in a kbach, she's echoing a pose that was carved on a wall a thousand years ago.