TN Tour 9: Coasting to Chidambaram

We made an early start from Kanchipuram to head to Chidrambaram. We were making a small detour to stop at two places en route – Pondy (to commune with the sea and have a spot of breakfast) and Pichavaram (a wonderfully serene foray into one of the largest mangroves on our coastline).

We arrived in Chidambaram and were fortunate to find a hotel a mere kilometre from the temple. 

We had just one day in Chidambaram, and we wanted first to pay our respects to Thillai Kali Amman, on the outskirts. She is here in two aspects – as the fiery Kali and the more serene, four-headed Brahma Chamundeswari. 

It was a special experience. Kali is a fierce roopa of the Divine Feminine and we were particularly conscious of this as we approached her. She was in head-tossy mood. We tried to light a deepam for her and struggled repeatedly to get the wick lit. Trust me when I say there was no heavy breeze that day but for this one spot. Devi! the plea went up. Thankfully, she was not angry, only teasing; and we were able to get it done and proffer the lamps at the altar. The archaka took two lemons that had been impaled on her trishulam and, to our joy, gave them to us.

Next, we hastened off to Nataraja Koil only to stand stock-still at the entrance. I don’t know what I expected but it was a jaw dropping experience simply to take in this huge intricate complex, to walk through the prakarmas into the innermost shrine. I cannot do justice, so I will not try. Without stopping at any ancillary shrines or deities, we walked rapidly through and found, a bit to our surprise, that we had come to the very heart – the golden-domed Chit Sabha, the Chamber of Chitta, the innermost core of the mind.
 

 

Shiva stands here as Nataraja, and here also is consecrated the element of Akasha or ether – a veiled space that contains the Secret of Chidambaram, accessible only those with extraordinary perception.

We had only a few hours in Chidambaram but we spent them all here, wandering around, prostrating at the Govindaraja Perumal temple, sitting for shoonya meditation in the outer mandapas, and returning to stand indefinitely in front of Nataraja. We spent nearly six hours inside the temple, and so habituated, it seemed familiar. We went back to the hotel at midnight, and returned briefly in the morning for leave-taking.

Chidambaram is enshrined in so many songs, there is so much lore about it… consecrated by the great Patanjali himself, it is so subtle but it is addictive. You simply want more of the good stuff. 

Patanjali in Dhyanalinga parikrama, Isha Yoga Center (Credit: Isha Foundation)

 What a profound land this is that can put up miracles like this.

TN Tour 8: Kanchipuram Extra

Isn’t it so amazing that for a temple town with over a thousand temples, there is only one to a feminine deity? Just the one for the lady Kamakshi, who reigns over the kshetra.

On our ‘extra day’ at Kanchipuram, there was a long list of things to do. The Lord Varadaraja Perumal was first order of business. 

This is a stunning temple complex with some highly intricate sculpture. 

A busload of tourists had arrived and that lengthened the queue time, during which I was able to admire the peeling but still wonderful paintings that covered the walls. 

We went to see the gold and silver lizards, where there was quite a bit of silly shoving not to mention yelling by the guards. I admit I felt a pang of worry with COVID so recently past, to touch them but it didn’t feel right to not do the done thing, either. 

In the main sanctum, the Lord himself was utterly magnificent. The temple has a long history (apparently has around 350 inscriptions from various dynasties) and is one of the 108 divya desams of Vishnu.

Next we asked Raj, our driver, to find us a way to the river. He consulted a local or two, followed a track with some dust raised on it and delivered us, quite without volition, at the Shri Kanchi Kamakoti Peetam. Now this is hallowed ground – the Peetam or Seat was established by Adi Shankara and has an unbroken lineage of 70 acharyas. We must’ve heard that phrase any number of times in our lives. However, somehow, it was not on our ‘Plan A’ checklist. But here we were, and since we were there, we went in. Only to stumble upon grand jayanti celebrations marking the birthday of the Jagadguru Bala Periyava that were underway with all the luminaries of the Peetam on stage. A little abashed, we occupied seats and sat for a while before crouching out in what we hoped was an unobtrusive manner.

We visited the brown riverbed that passes for River Vegavati, once again dismayed at the state of southern rivers. 

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That evening we made our way to the Kailashanathar koil. Words fail me as I try to describe the beauty of this wonderful Pallava-era structure. Built with sandstone, this is a square layout of exceptional beauty and balance. 

The lingam is a large and faceted one; I think they said 16, but I cannot be sure. We met an irascible, venerable old man here, one of the priests of the shrine. We fell to talking and he shared a little of what it was like to continue in work that was under appreciated today, brought in far too little… but we could see that he could not imagine his life in any other way but in the service of Shiva.

Around the main shrine, built cunningly into the structure, is a narrow circumambulatory passage. You are required to crouch into the tunnel which encircles the linga, and emerge onto Shiva’s left, a pradakshina that is said to give moksha to those who complete it. A young man before us attempted to clamber up with his backpack still strapped on. “Idé eDu!” our elderly priest chided him. “Remove this! Put it down here! No one is interested in your bag.” It was symbolic. You must drop your baggage if you set off on the path to mukti. 

It reminds me of Kabir:

कबीर का घर सिखर पर जहाँ सिलहली गेल
पाऊँ का टिके पिपील का तहाँ खलकन लादे बैल

On the very peak is Kabir’s home, and every step is treacherous
Even the ant finds the path slippery, how then to take a bullock-cart up?

We sat a while in the dusk, looking at the lovely lines of the temple. It is maintained by the Archaeological Survey of India, with the typical landscaping they deem appropriate for every single site under their domain – lawns dotted with the occasional shrub. But they permit prayers in here, while preserving the structure, so I will not carp too much about that.

We then visited the dargah of Hazrat Syed Shah Hameed Auliya of the Qadri, Chishti order, where we sat awhile. 

Then wandered over to Vaikunda Perumal koil, an atmospheric and very charming temple.

Alas, although it was down the street from our hotel, we could not visit the Chitragupar koil. Said to be an assistant of Yama’s, this gent is responsible for the accounts of our destiny, entries of our good and bad deeds. It is a rare temple and I should have liked to have seen it: Chitragupta, by logic, is a good deity to have in your corner. It was not to be. In any case, it would have been academic. I have turned over all my accounts books to someone else. He will fudge them for me.

Devis and other things

A new installment of the Tamil Nadu saga was ready but alas, my laptop (newish, just out of warranty period) is showing signs of distress by way of a damaged hinge. I could not take it with me to ashram when I was there for Mahashivratri and since my return to Hyderabad, I've been ill with one thing or the other. 

Since then, Sadhguru has consecrated the Devi Linga Bhairavi in Nepal, and she appears to be a magnificent entity, housed in a most exquisite temple. I am most excited about what her presence will do for that region.

Over the Navratri in 2022, a most wonderful thing happened. I was in Bodoland for most of Dussehra and on Saptami, I found myself in Guwahati, the land of the Goddess Kamakhya. It was a particularly crowded day but I was simply fortunate to be there. After almost 9 hours of waiting in queue, I was able to offer my homage to the lady. Now with Devi Linga Bhairavi (in a slightly altered variation) joining forces in the northeast of the subcontinent... it will be interesting. Nepal is lucky indeed.

***

Are the various overlays not interesting? From seeing this land as a political entity, with its rise and fall of kingdoms, I had moved to being interested in its physical nature – the lush fertile plains of the Ganga, the mountain ranges, the rivers that crisscross our Hindustan. Now it appears that the more subtle map of our spiritual hotspots is the thing to follow. 

Where are the radiating hubs? Why are they there? How do they tie together? How do they work together? Is it a boundary, or a network? Where are the holy men and women? How are they dotting the geography? Which shrines are still strong? Which took the brunt of invasions and lost their power and relevance? What idols are lying in wait, hidden in streams, farmers' fields, under rubble... just biding their time to emerge? Wouldn't it be wonderful to able to see these subtle connections? Till my perception sharpens, a lively imagination and conjecture will have to do.

TN Tour 7: Kamakshi and Ekambareshwara

Late afternoon turned to evening as we arrived at the temple of the Devi Kamakshi.

The story goes that Parvati heard from Shiva about the technical and ritualistic worship that forms the Agamic way. The Agama traditions include yoga, self-realisation, kundalini yoga and asceticism, and she wished to worship the lord in this way. At Kanchi, Shiva had taken abode at the root of a mango tree and that is where Parvati as Kamakshi made a linga from sand and began to woo him with tapas and yogic austerities. Playfully, and perhaps also as a test, Shiva took the form of the Kamba aka Vegavati river and the waters began to surge. Abandoning all her rituals, the Devi embraced the shivalingam to protect it from erosion, and unable to resist her Bhakti, he melted into her. 

Created by me with Dall-e 2

At Kanchi, the Goddess sits in padmasana. 

We snaked around the shrine in the darshan queue, made our offerings, took darshan. Because the queue wasn’t too bad, we managed to sneak in for another round, hehe. One of the guards was kind to us, and indicated a quiet place on a landing in front of the shrine, permitting us to sit for a while without either being in anyone’s way or our darshan being blocked. She is quite something, Kamakshi.

Adi Shankara is supposed to have installed the Sri Chakra mandala here, and there is a shrine to him to one side, with various sages and rishis depicted along the upper lintel of the structure. These were familiar names to us – the Guru Pooja we chant every day invokes a line of Gurus: Narayana, Padmabhava, Vasistha, Vyasa, Shuka, Goudapada… the Guru Pooja simply poured out of us as we stood there at the twilight hour, the sandhyakala.

We had made good time and bespoke an auto to take us to the Ekambareshwara Temple but what happened there, I wrote about in this earlier post.

***

We returned the next morning and this time, he was in residence. Hardly any people at all and we went right in. 

 

Now, Ekambareshwara is one of the Pancha Bhoota Stalas of southern India, and is the deity for the element of earth or Prithvi. With Save Soil, Sadhguru was specifically seeking the healing of the earth element. With the rampant use of chemicals, by stripping away verdure and leaving precious topsoil open to all manner of erosion, we have let soil health slide in every corner of the globe. A critical aspect of planetary health that has gone shockingly unnoticed and unaddressed – which is now slowly gaining world attention. Naturally, Ekambareshwara was a very important stop for us.

We went up to the sanctum, requesting an ‘archana’. 

"In whose name?" the priest asked us briskly. We looked at each other, a bit lost as to how to express ourselves. 

“For everyone… for the world…” we fumbled. 

“Ah, ok! Lokahitam?” he prompted. Beneficial to the whole world. 

We nodded rapidly, pleased with his quick grasp of what we needed. Barely pausing a beat, he launched into the most beautiful Sanskrit shloka I’ve heard… fresh air, he asked for, clean rivers that were neither too scarce nor too abundant, bounty for all creatures… prosperity and well-being for humans and mukti for each one at the appropriate time. We were close to tears by the end of it. It was most fitting. I have no idea which source that was from, I was too dazed to ask. We sat for a moment or two and were soon hustled out to make way for the next archana. “Go to the mango tree,” they told us kindly, “you can sit around there as long as you want.”

So we went to the ‘mango tree’ – a dignified arbour that marks the spot of Kamakshi’s penance. This is a beautiful enclosure and here also we prayed for the regeneration of the earth – its soil, its waters, a rise of empathy and consciousness, and for the safety of our Master who was risking life and limb in a brutal journey across continents.

This is a large temple, with long corridors, beautiful columns, high ceilings… we sat for a bit, pondering the massive effort and conviction that went into making these gems that are strewn in the Tamil land. 

Picking up the thread

It has been a month since I updated last - the gaps between posts that are supposed to be part of a travel series is much too wide. I had really hoped to write up the Tamil Nadu travelogue at a fast clip.

Work intervened, however, and I went on assignment to Bodoland, the beautiful Autonomous Territorial Region within Assam. 

The Wild Side of Bodoland
(Created by me with Dall-E)

Those stories had to be written and this blog series got pushed down the queue. Then Sadhguru consecrated a wonderful Naga shrine in our new, upcoming center at Bengaluru, which was an unbelievable experience. It rained through out the consecration and there were about 16,000 of us, sitting in the wet, beyond midnight, witnessing the descent of a celestial serpent being. 

 

After we attended that, I seized the chance to spend a fortnight at the ashram in Coimbatore. 

Long story short, we had left the story at Kanchipuram and will pick it up there again. If nothing, it gives me an excuse to pore over pictures and dwell on the trip.

TN Tour 6: Divya Desam

It took us a while to get settled in at Kanchipuaram till we got allotted a room that suited us. A late lunch and coffee at the Saravana Bhavan down the street meant that it was only after 5pm that we set out.

The Kamakshi temple was within walking distance. We were asking for directions and negotiating the lanes that would take us to her, when we came upon another temple. We entered, not knowing where we were. However, Kanchi has such a wealth of shrines, I doubt you could throw a peanut and not hit hoary legend. We had somehow chanced upon the fabled Ulagalanda Perumal Temple. 

There are 108 ‘divya desams’ in the Indian subcontinent dedicated to the Lord Vishnu – these are spots that have been extolled in song and verse (mangalasasanam) by the 12 alwars, Tamil Nadu’s most revered poet-saints. This temple – the Ulagalanda Perumal complex, where Vishnu is worshipped as Vamana, the dwarf avatar who vanquished King Bali – houses not one but in fact four divya desams.

My father tells me that ‘ulagam’ is Tamil for the world, ‘alandha’ is ‘the one who measured’ – therefore Ulagalanda Perumal. You know the story of the asura king Mahabali, of course, in which the Lord, in his vamana or dwarf avatar, asked the king for three paces of land. When Mahabali had acquiesced, Vishnu assumed gigantic proportions. One step he took from heaven to earth, the second from earth to the netherworld and asked Mahabali where he should place his next step. The King, bound by his promise, offered his head. He was pushed into the netherworld and the Lord gave him sovereignty over Patalaloka. 

Vamana by Keshav @Krishnafortoday

The main shrine has the most breath-taking relief in black stone depicting Vamana with one leg held aloft to span the skies. It is believed to have been built by Pallavas, with later contributions from Medieval Cholas, Vijayanagar kings and Madurai Nayaks.

My breath hitched with some resonance in the temple. The worship was ardent but apart from the central shrine, the rest of the temple, the outer mantapam etc is rudely maintained, unkempt and messy. A temple of this antiquity, this stature not getting its due attention is simply saddening. It is, of course, under the grip of the notorious Tamil Nadu Hindu Religious and Charitable Endowments Department (HR&CE) – an authority reported to have been so corrupt and inept over the decades, it is in the process of destroying all remnants of this valuable civilization.

This was another strain that threaded our whole journey. On the one hand, we were blown away by the sheer force that the deities still wield, by the throbbing bhakti that has been kept up, in the face of monumental odds. On the other, we were frequently moved to grief at the dilapidation, the criminal neglect, the apathy… In some cases, it was callous disregard, in some others, the utter lack of understanding of what the whole temple complex represents, how it works not as ornamental levels or grandiose architecture but as a subtle energetic mandala.

TN Tour 5: Arunachala

Before the pandemic hit, our last outing was to Tiruvannamalai early 2020. Arunachala Shiva had struck us like lightning. It had been a short trip, deeply moving but we’d not had time to collect all the ticks on the list of things to do there. There was no doubt in our minds that we would first make our way to Arunachala on this trip of ours.

The journey was a long one. With stops at Karur and Salem, it took us 14 hours to traverse 425km; we pulled in at Tiruvannamalai at around 7.30 in the evening. An unwise choice of a robust thali for lunch left us a bit nauseous and we could do nothing that day but tend to our stomachs and sleep. We knocked at the doors of Ramana Ashram the next morning. A beautiful place, where we bowed to Matrubhuteshwara, sat in the benevolent quietude, grateful for this space that Ramana has left for us to soak in.

We had plans for that day: Virupaksha caves, a visit to Seshadri ashram, a spot of lunch… but instead we sat in the hotel room, requesting to be sent several bottles of water as we puked our guts out. Around 4pm, the worst was over and we felt that we could perhaps salvage the day after all. We went first to Arunachaleshwara and straight into the inner-most shrine. Gracious, He accepted our homage and gave us leave to circumambulate the hill.

Out on to the main road, and a turn right to make our way around this sacred hill that draws devotees in thousands. Eight important lingams dot the 14km route and it is customary to visit them all as you walk the path. 

 Soon we left the traffic behind and climbed the hill road. The road is home to hundreds of sadhus who have gravitated towards Tiruvannamalai. Some are attached to the numerous temples and ashrams that dot this entire path, some make do with rudimentary shacks of their own making. We saw food trucks from one of the ashrams make a slow trawl, offering annadanam to the holy men. We walked on, somewhat troubled by the fine gravel on the path. 14km would not have been challenging normally, but being barefoot, we discovered, added at least 2 hours to our time. It was night when we finished the circuit once again at the temple, which was closed by this time. We saluted the Lord from outside his gates, and celebrated with a light dinner comprising plain dosa and nimbu soda.

Our hotel, presumably used to folks limping in after their girivalam pradakshina, had a massage chair on offer. After a bracing bath, I went off to indulge myself and was taken by this marvelous machine that knows precisely how to treat sore calf muscles. I yielded the chair to Shweta and she nearly woke up the nearby guests by squealing in ticklish joy. She hadn’t anticipated that the chair would twist her ankles quite so well.

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The first thing we did the next morning was head to Arunchaleshwara again.

Approaching from the Raja Gopuram or the East Gate.

The temple complex is dazzling in its scale and beauty

Morning darshan was quick and sweet. We reached the Devi Unnamalai Amman just as the abhishekam started; happily, the priest let us linger a little longer than usual in front of the shrine. We spent some time at the patala lingam, the cave temple where Ramana spent much time. Once decrepit, now restored, it is a place to linger and try to comprehend the resolution it takes to approach the Truth.

This was a pattern we followed for the most part through our journey. Arrive in the afternoon, make one visit to the main temple in the evening and yet another the following morning. We spent the hot, afternoon hours on the road getting from place to place.

The prasadam stall at Arunchaleshwara temple is a good one, and we asked for puli sadam, sweet pongal and vadai. We ate it right there in the mandapam, and in a while, washed that down with fruit juice near Seshadri ashram. 

We walked over to the ashram of Yogi Ramsuratkumar, who is affectionately referred to as Visri Sami. A mystic who came from Uttar Pradesh and settled here within view of Arunachala. This is a place of serene beauty. We had prasadam here, wandered across the hall reading the wonderful life events and teachings of the master.

Thanks to our lost day, we did not have time for Virupaksha cave once more. Next time for sure. We left Tiruvannamalai, craning our necks to catch final glimpses of the sacred hill. To be summoned again in a span of two years… lucky indeed.

TN Tour 4: On the road to Tiruvannamalai

Our route to Tiruvannamalai, the first night-halt, was punctuated by stops: Nerur, the samadhi sthala of the great saint Sadasiva Brahmendra; and Salem, where lies the jeeva samadhi of Mayamma, the wonderful avadhuta of Kanyakumari. Both places were magnificent.

Sadasiva Brahmendra finds a place among the six panels leading up to the Dhyanalinga at Isha. We have often heard and read stories of his life, his complete dis-identification with his body, we have heard his songs, typical in their laconic phrasing. His resting place I found restful, more silent than energetic. 

Mayamma’s samadhi – a smallish shrine off the Law College Road in Salem – was a place of loving sweetness with an undercurrent of buzz. Fittingly there were dogs here, Mayamma’s most beloved constant companions.  

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One motif running through the entire trip was the rivers, in particular Cauvery whom we encountered time and again, crossing her course several times. Again, a special interest for us. Cauvery Calling, the massive on-ground movement to revive the river is supporting farmers to make a partial shift to agro-forestry. The mission is to plant 242 crore trees in the river basin, revitalizing the soil, and in turn, the river, which has been seeing dangerously depleted levels. We saw first-hand the truly heartbreaking state of the river and the smaller rivers that drain into it.

Near Karur, we went to the fascinating Agatheeswarar Temple on the banks of River Amaravathi, near the confluence of the rivers Kaveri, Amaravathi and the now-dead Thirumanimuthaar. The location was magnificent, the sunlight was brassy gold, birds chirped and flitted, not with the frenzy of dawn but with all the languor of the midday warmth. We’d gone prepared to take a dip in the water but the riverbed was dry, the water just a silvery trickle in the distance. It wasn’t even summer yet. We could see for ourselves what Sadhguru means when he says our rivers are dying. This is not how it’s supposed to be. A river is a huge presence, a life of its own… we have let things go too far. 

The temple – built by Rajendra Chola I – is in a state of disrepair. The inner shrine (the linga is said to have consecrated by Agastya himself) was barred. We couldn’t go in but we met some officials there, I think they were from the Department of Archeology; restoration, I learned, is on the cards. In the yard, we found a Shivalinga, a samadhi and a pair of hobnailed padukas*, belonging to a yogi who had lived here, and also left at this spot. How wonderful if the temple and the river are restored together! Can you imagine the powerful serenity that could once again emanate from such a combination?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Edited to add: I unthinkingly called them hobnailed padukas, which doesn't describe them correctly. Hobnails were typically driven under shoes or boots, of course. These are nails or spikes embedded into the wooden base, on which the yogi walks.