Almost all of the temples in Khajuraho were desecrated by the Mughal Empire, and thus are not used by the devout… But they weren’t desecrated enough to not still be beautiful.
At this point in my journey to India I had run out of paper in my notebook. Apparently Moleskine notebooks are not widely available in India. For that matter, sketchbooks are impossible to find in Khajuraho. So I made due with what I could find, luckily the kind people at my hotel helped me find a travelers journal.
The day that I explored the Lakshmana temple was a day that was particularly auspicious for Shiva: A new moon had fallen on a Monday. I don’t know anything about Hinduism, so I can’t speak to the religious ramifications of this event, but the result was that little Khajuraho was flooded with people reverently sacrificing coconuts, and presenting festoons of flowers. Shouting out the name of Shiva in unified waves of religious fervor. I felt very lucky to have been there while it happened.