Sabarimalai Stories- Part I

Day 1

Before I begin to forcefully stash my thoughts and views of my trip (I’d rather say pilgrimage) to Sabarimalai, I’d like to record the fact that I am purely agnostic. This was not something my mum’s uncle expected of me when he prayed, on my behalf, read it again, ON MY BEHALF that I’d take up this pilgrimage, when I was born twenty four years ago. How convenient, sir, you just made a promise to God at somebody’s expense.

These thoughts were not entertained in my household- a blasphemy they considered.  So, the long pending pilgrimage was set-up for the 16^th of October this year. I had no say in anything- even my tickets to Chennai from Bangalore and return were booked and systematically sent to my e-mail ID. I was taken aback by the thoroughness of my parents’ preparations and decided to give in- I’d secretly accept that I had no choice either.

Cut and forward to the 15^th of October, I was in Chennai at the little Karumariamman temple at the end of my street. The old gurukal prayed God and put on the bead necklace (the revered maalai) which I should have worn 48 days before. Ideally, any devotee is required to formally accomplish a vratha (austerity period) for 41 days without footwear, non-vegetarian food, alcohol, sex and also a shower in the morning and evening. Now, my dad did try sending me the incredibly huge list containing 31 dos and don’ts, but I was sure he was not quite convinced I’d follow them. I skipped it promptly and decided I’ll wear the maalai one day before setting off to the pilgrimage telling myself that I did not need austerity for my heart was clean (can’t vouch though).

After wearing the bead necklace, I was ushered back home and made to sit in front of the little station of idols and photos of Gods we had at home. A 2 hour pooja ensued by the end of which I was caught by Mum eyeing the prasadam (offering- sweetened rice and apples). Come on man, stomach does not care much about the time and situation, does it?

Later in the day, about 6 PM, Dad and I left home. We were asked to smash a coconut on the road right in front of the house and walk forward without looking at the house. It was a part of yet another custom. I followed Dad, smashing the coconut into pieces and walked forward resisting the urge to look back at the house. What would happen if I looked back?

I found my Dad shepherding me to an Ayyappa temple. It was incredibly weird- I was wearing a dhoti and I was barefoot. I realized it was just the beginning of 4 long days without footwear. A 40 minute pooja ensued where the sacred Irumudi was formed. An irumudi is pretty much a piece of cloth which has two sacks at both the ends. One end of the sack contains two coconuts which are filled with ghee through drilled holes. The other end contains another set of coconuts, some rice and coins and a whole bunch of other stuff which I figured were not quite important. The rice and coin that my parents and I filled in on one of the sacks were supposed to be the last rites for myself. In Hindu tradition, the dead body’s mouth is filled with rice and a coin in placed on the forehead.

Another little story went behind this custom which was quite interesting to hear. My dad’s friend, one Mr. Kumar (name changed) was also accompanying us who kept us engaging with the myth. Sabarimala until the late 80s was a really uninhabited place and the forest was so dense that a lot of people never returned back. Hence the rice and coin, essential elements of the last rites for any person was packed in the Irumudi. Rice in Hindu tradition is quite a bizarre component. One is showered with rice by elders with a blessing that they live a long fruitful life but at the same time, used to fill in a dead person’s mouth as well. It is also said that the ladies in the house used to light lamps in their houses when the men left for Sabarimalai. If the lamp turned off, it meant that the men were either facing danger or dead.

Now, you can question me as to why such a complex uphill task has to be undertaken by people. Is this not religious fanaticism? Well, the answer is simply, yes. But hey, the Hindus are not alone here. Every religion has a really cruel, tiring and long pilgrimage attached to its ‘to-do’ lists. The most distinct of examples is the Camino de Santiago. It is the 780 km walk from St. Jean-Pied-du-Port near Biarritz in France to Santiago in Spain. Christians take up this really arduous journey to visit the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela where St. James, one of the Twelve Apostles of Jesus was buried.

Half the world believes that the path to the journey begins from one’s house but the French start from Biarritz and Spanish consider the Pyrenees a starting point. As with any religion, people have several opinions and everyone, absolutely convinced that their way of doing was correct. We had a similar situation as Mr. Kumar was continuously arguing with my Dad that the gurukal was wrong in packing the extra coconut in the Irumudi- a conversation that I was really not interested in.

Now, about Mr. Kumar, he is quite the typical ‘I-know-it-all’ personality. It becomes such a difficult task to deal with people like him especially when you embark upon a journey where you’d have to rely on their advice. A classic example of this was when the old man in the train who introduced himself as a Siddha doctor suggested that we take a shower at the famous Coutrallam falls before taking a bus to Pampa, the foothills of Sabarimalai. Now, Mr. Kumar jumped the gun by interrupting the conversation between us saying,

‘What are you talking about? Do you even know how far both these places (where we’d disembark and Coutrallam falls) are?’

The old doctor was absolutely sure of his numbers, I could tell it from his expression. ‘How far is it?’ he returned the question and chuckled adding, ‘Five kilometers.’

I turned my head at Mr. Kumar’s direction who was visibly embarrassed. He shamelessly added, ‘Sorry, I did not know.’

At this moment, the other old man who had just sat next to Dad backed the doctor’s suggestion and told him that we should get down at Tenkasi instead of Shenkottai and take a shower at Coutrallam. Dad looked at me and I was beaming down at him. So, it was decided that we’d get down at Tenkasi instead of Shenkottai. We were heading to Coutrallam falls for a cold shower…

Day 2

It was about 6 AM when I completely came to consciousness. I sat up and declared that I had a pathetic sleep. The biggest problems with the Indian Railways’ upper berths are the close proximity to the fans. Let me be frank and agree that I am poor with dhotis. The cloth kept slipping away from my hip throughout the night and I played catch up with it only to be rendered cold by the dumb fan in areas which the cloth revealed.

After a shower in the falls which had incredibly pure water with the scent of leaves and herbs, we headed to the Coutrallanathar temple where we ate the food we had brought from home. We reached Shenkottai, took the connecting bus to Punalur which passed through the tiny village of Puliyarai in the Tamil Nadu- Kerala border with brilliant landscape all around. I was in glee travelling in the rusty old KSRTC bus which was always a pleasing experience. It reminded me of all my solo travels in Kerala. The 50 kilometer drive from Shenkottai to Punalur was dotted by several tiny quintessential Kerala villages. The foliage was thick and roads, superb.

At Punalur we found a direct connection to Pampa. By the time we reached the little pilgrim village, it was about 5 PM. People in huge packs were heading towards the small passage that lead them to the river banks. Almost everyone I could see was wearing black dhotis and black shirts carrying their Irumudi on their head. Now, I have not been in a boys-only school or college but I could understand how it would have felt when I looked around. I could hardly see a woman. It was quite distressing, you know if I have to be true to my feelings. It is well known and quite controversial these days, the ruling by the Kerala High Court which prohibits women between 10 to 60 entering the temple. The river was quite clean, considering the number of unclean rivers I’d seen. All the three of us took turns to take a dip. It stretched as far as one’s eye could see and ended somewhere among the beautiful blue-green hills.

To be continued...