“It will be nice in the mornings,” a friend had told me before I left for Madurai. I grudgingly wake up before sunrise, wishing for a few more hours of sleep. The streets are empty but for the watchman of my hotel and a couple of two wheelers that were drifting away slowly. Perfume draws me towards a small coffee-shop manned by a short man with an innocent smile. The coffee is good, and at three rupees, is the cheapest I have had in many years. I had to have another cup.
Life expanded as I walked towards the temple. There is more light and a few shops are already open, but still hardly any people on the roads. A sadhu with a long beard squatted on the approach to temple, wearing bright saffron, his forehead smeared with Vibhoothi. There is just enough light for me to catch the glitter of warmth exuding from his eyes.
West Gopura of Madurai Meenakshi Temple
Repeated chants of ‘Om Namah Shivaya’ effused by loudspeakers from the temple, indicating that they are already open. Otherwise peace of the morning is disturbed by the continuous chant that is probably on since 5am. It would haunt me inside the temple too, till as late as 8.
Madurai Temple is roughly divided into two major sections – one around Meenakshi shrine to the south and the other around the sanctuary of Sundareshwarar to the North. The eastern entrance has the temple market selling flowers, trinkets, photos and statues of all kind of gods and goddesses. A huge thousand pillar hall which seems to have served a purpose no more than showing off the might of the kings is housed in a corner at the south, which is now converted into a museum. A fort-like high wall encloses all these, with four tall Gopuras one for each direction.
Entering Madurai Meenakshi Temple
The Gopuras dominate Madurai’s skyline and their might is evident from far away. As I walk closer, I pain my neck trying to looking up at all the brightly coloured statues covering every inch of the tower. There are goddesses with uncountable number of hands, gods with multiple heads, demons with long canines, dancing nataraja, calm Subrahmanya with blessing hands and men and women of all kind – earthly and celestial. Leaving their bodies which are painted fair or dark, rest of the Gopura are smeared in every conceivable color by the creative brush of the artist. There are clothes red, yellow and white. Crowns are orange and green. Only the armoury and jewellery of gods are allowed to stay sober in color. The space between statues are painted with a shade of gentle purple that is fading, and there is so little of free space that it fails to become the dominant color of the towers.
I think of the engineering capability of those times used for building these complex structure looming several hundred feet high, at a time when the word skycraper would not have been invented yet. The amount of labour used must be phenomenal enough that current day governments and temple authorities might squirm just to imagine the time and effort they have to spend maintaining the structures.
Potramarai Kulam, Madurai Meenakshi Temple
Entering through the West Gopura, I walk along the temple corridor to the east and reach Potramarai Kulam – The Golden Lotus Pond. Southern Gopura, the tallest of the lot dominates the environs of the pond. Sun is just out and the tip of Gopura is bathed in bright light, rest of it still in shade. A large metal lotus in the pond, colored in yellow would have given the pond its name. Water level is no more than a few inches and the floor appears cemented. A small square in the center isolated from rest of the pond is crowded with lilies and houses a metal pillar in the center – another one painted in yellow. A few pigeons fly in and out every now and then, probably enjoying the feel of shallow water on their feet. The otherwise quiet environs of the pond is unsettled only by continuous chants of ‘Om Namah Shivaya’.
I sit on the steps leading to the pond watching sun rays slowly light up more and more of the southern tower. A sign posted on a pillar next to me, and directly opposing the Gopura and the lake, proudly proclaims its location as ‘Photo Spot’. The corridor around the pond is colored to life with bright Rangoli. I sit quietly on the steps and observe life in the temple, and watch people walk back and forth with tiny pooja baskets. Time moves uneventful and I am lost in non-thought till a man comes and decides to disturb my moments of solitude. He tells me that I should go around the temple and visit the shrine before sitting here, and offers himself as my escort. I politely try to shrug him off with a lie, telling him that it is all done already, but he is not ready to move. I then resort to ignoring him which works fine, and I am back to non-thought mode.
Sun seems to move up really fast, and it was strong and bright all over before 8am. The recorded chants of ‘Om Namah Shivaya’ are replaced by someone singing carnatic music accompanied by Mridanga and Nadaswara. I am keen to linger here, but the rising sun eventually forces me to move. I hear sound of anklets behind me which grow stronger on approach, and become unusually intense as it gets closer. Turning around, I see walking behind me is not a damsel in dancing costume but the charming temple elephant striding with her Mahout. Finding an excuse to leave my seat of comfort,I walk behind the elephant like excited little children in a village who would run behind a motor car.
A woman lights a lamp for Nandi
I stroll further, exploring corners of the temple and put myself in the shoes of observer of life in the temple. A small statue of Nandi is lit with dozens of tiny wick lamps releasing gentle orange flames. Women keet walking in, prostrate in front of Nandi to light a lamp, smear their forehead with a tiny dot of kumkum from the Nandi and move on. A statue of Ganesha keeps watch of people going in and out of the sanctuary of goddess Meenakshi.
Premises of Meenakshi Shrine
The inner prangana(courtyard) is heavily criss-crossed with steel barricades meant to enforce a queue. Garish metals stand out amidst the stone walls and structures of the ancient days. Bright railings of stainless steel, tastelessly installed gold plated coverings for stone pillars and a Nataraja in silver stand out among the dark walls and dimly lit interior. The sanctum is lit only with gentle orange hues of flickering wick lamps that surround the deity. Devotees, only a few in number stand in line to receive prasada and take their time gazing at the deity. There is no rush or hurry. The evening pooja draws a decent crowd that just about fills the inner courtyard and justifies the barricades to some extent.
Coming out from the Meenakshi shrine, I walk forward to the enclave of Sundareshwarar.
Continued in Part II
I spent a quick evening wandering around Qutub Minar in Delhi, while I was on my way to Rajasthan a couple of months ago. We did not have much time, and spent the evening wandering in the enclosure, without trying to know much of the history or intricacies of the monument. So I don’t have anything to say on it, and it makes no sense to describe something in words when there are pictures to do the talking. Here we go.
Map: Location of Qutub Minar in Delhi
The last picture – I was about to take a picture of this plaque for my records before leaving the place. This little girl, I don’t know where she was, came and stood right in front of it as though she is posing, and gave a shy, innocent smile. She stood there hardly for a second or two while I quickly clicked.
Travelling in Himachal in June – 2007
Shimla >> Manali >> Rohtang >> Chandratal >> Ki/Kibber/Tabo >> Kalpa >> Shimla
+ Previous: Batal and Chandratal
+ Next: Tabo Monastery and Nako Village
+ Go to beginning of the story or index page
We continued eastward from Chandratal. Roads improved considerably as the day progressed. My friend who looked worried on the road to Chandratal was now sitting relaxed. ‘Don’t you think it will be nice to trek on this road?’ he had asked me on the way to Chandratal, and then admitted that he was a bit worried about sitting in the jeep.
At Kunzum La. All the information you would be looking for.. Kunzum La – 4551m, Kaza – 76km – 3600m, Losar – 19km – 4079m, Kibber – 90km – 4205m, Sagnam – 118km – 3650m, Tabo – 123km – 3050m. The blue sign belongs to BSNL and lists their telephone exchanges ahead on the road. Incredible folks they are, having managed to connect such places.
Kunzum La or Kunzum Pass was our next point and the highest altitude that we went through in our journey. The place hosts a small temple for Kunzum Devi. Whether the pass derived its name from the temple or the other way is not known. At least there was no one there to tell us about it and neither did our driver Mangal know. Walking barefoot on the cold ground was not exactly my idea of fun, but I could not resist going inside. There was some evidence of worshiping by both Hindus and Buddhists, but it is unlikely a priest would visit everyday to perform pooja.
Kunzum Devi Temple
Landscape of Spiti is remarkably different from Lahaul. Lahaul region had perfectly blue skies as if someone chose the precise shade and painted it permanently, but a tiny clouds or two popped up as we progressed eastward. The floor of Spiti valley is wide and has a lot more vegetation. Asphalted straight roads took us through Losar, the first village in Spiti and then to Kaza; it was not very different from being in the plains except for the views of the mountains on both sides. Villages appeared on the road every now and then, and there were a few people waiting on the road for transport to Kaza. Losar, with a population no more than a few hundreds even has a branch of State Bank of India. They probably had a mobile network too – we spotted towers in Kaza which was not too far away. Villages have irrigation facilities and people were out working in the fields. From the uninhabitable terrains of Lahaul, this was a complete change.
A Yak grazes in Spiti Valley
We stopped at Losar for lunch and reached Kaza around 4pm. We wanted to refuel in Kaza, but it was Sunday and the only government owned fuel station was closed. Mangal explained that they only work from 9 to 5 on weekdays, true to the style of a state owned business. But some begging seemed to work, and the operator came down to bail us out.
Ki Monastery is only a short drive from Kaza town, but its location gives it a distinction from its neighbourhood. Placed on a hillock, it stands apart from rest of the valley, with construction crowding the hill.
Grandeur setup of Ki Monastery
We entered the monastery and stood in the inner courtyard, confused and wondering which way to go. A door that seemed to lead a sanctum was closed, and so was another door in the opposite direction. A small wooden staircase lead into a dark arena and we pondered on taking it. Just then we heard a monk speaking with a feeble voice behind us, offering his assistance.
The friendly monk opened the doors of the prayer hall and lead us inside. He had a typical round Mongoloid face with small blood-shot eyes and bugling cheeks. His ochre robe clung to his body in a manner not very different from a sari. He spoke with a deep high pitch voice that seemed to be coming from the bottom of his larynx.
Ki Monastery is 800 years old, but most of the buildings are new and there is no visible evidence of its past. The buildings that stand today are made of white washed mud plaster and wood to support the roof. More buildings, built with cement, are coming up in the periphery to accommodate more students as well as tourists. Dalai Lama had given a visit to the monastery some time ago, and the chair where he sat and the bed he slept on have been preserved neatly. ‘Dalai Lama used to sit here, he used to sleep in this room,’ explained our guide as he took us through the monastery.
The monastery was spread around a prayer hall where the monks assembled. A few deities of worship, a kitchen and smaller prayer rooms surrounded the prayer hall. An old kitchen built many centuries ago still existed though not used anymore. Our monk escort showed us the utensils of yesteryears and asked to take a seat on a bench in the center. ‘We now use this room to honour the guests,’ he said and poured us tea from a pot. Over the tea, I questioned in him length about the past and present of the monastery.
‘Life was much difficult before,’ he explained and spoke in length, ‘it was not easy to procure food and other daily needs. Now we are helped by the government. Procuring fuel and wood was a big problem, since there are no trees here. Things are much better these days, we are well connected and well provided. There is a problem of good teachers though, Tibetans don’t get visa(permits?) very easily and we will have to manage with local teachers.’
Tibetans requiring a visa or permits to get to Spiti was news to me. I asked why is it so. ‘They could come and go easily in the past,’ he said, ‘but people of Spiti were innocent and Tibetans misused us. They would take our sheep and eat them. They would steal things. So they had to be restrained.’
‘Why is your monastery located in such remote place? Why are you so far away from civilization? Why do monasteries tend to be in some far away mountain or top of a hill?’ There were simply too many questions I wanted answers for.
The barrage of questions was probably hard on him, but he was patient. He took some time to think over it and said, ‘it is to escape from the everyday world.’ I waited for him to continue but he did not seem to have more to say on it.
He escorted us back to the entrance after the tea, and humbly welcomed us to visit again. The goodness and hospitality of of the people of hills never ceases to amuse me. ‘We have rooms to stay for tourists,’ he said, ‘next time you come, do stay with us.’
We made a brief visit to Kibber village before returning to Kaza. At more than 4000m, Kibber used to pride itself as the highest inhabited village in the world once, but the credit has now weathered down to highest motorable village. With the expanding road networks, I am sure they will soon become the second, and later third highest and so on in the days to come. They will have to search for other things to fill for highest _____ village in the next few years.
Kibber Village
Kibber is very close to Tibet border, and is mostly inhabited by Tibetan Buddhists. There are just a few dozen houses and all of them look similar. They rely on livestock to make a living, but as tourism is making inroads, a couple
of guest houses have sprung up. Kibber had electricity, and even boasts of a school – a few things which they can probably use with the ‘highest’ tag in the years to come. As we were returning from Kibber, driver Mangal told us in a tone of discomfort and disgust – ‘you know, people here eat beef.’ I think he waited for us to come back strongly in response, but unconcerned that we were, he must have been disappointed. He repeated the words again with a hope that he may not have been heard earlier, even as we continued to gaze through the window, admiring the views of Spiti valley below.
The evening in Kaza was much different. It was a town full of chaos. Guesthouses littered the streets and everyone was offering a room. A few professionally run resorts too had sprung up in the outskirts of the town. But there was no power supply late into evening and most of the guesthouses did not even have water, owing to some temporary problem in water supply. The ever reliable Mangal finally found a guest house with water where we checked in for the night.
Continued at Tabo Monastery and Nako Village