maverickbirdI had woken up the next morning to a wonderful breakfast of idli, vada and proper filter coffee (an aromatic beverage made by brewing finely ground coffee and dash of chicory in a traditional filter with a mix of frothed and boiled milk). There’s nothing more refreshing than to start a day with a light breakfast and south India differs greatly with the northern part of our country on that. The platter of fluffy idlis (rice cakes), crunchy vadas (deep fried light salty chick pea buns) accompanied with creamy grated coconut chutney and thick, savoury sambhar (mixed vegetable and lentil curry) was a far cry from the carb loaded breakfasts of Punjab and I had enjoyed them with the morning silence as Cauvery had sparkled close by. Srirangam’s Sri Ranganathan temple’s gopurams/temple towers had loomed in the golden light and I had found it hard to resist revisiting my ancestral house any longer.
A quick auto rickshaw ride had taken me over the Cauvery river bridge and immediately upon reaching the other side, time had started reversing itself. Blasts from a distant past had started bombarding me with emotions and familiar sights and sounds had made my eyes well up. Srirangam had thankfully escaped the overzealous invasion of modern real estate development and most of the suburb had still remained delightfully time warped. I had stopped briefly at the Ammamandapam Padi-thurai by the Cauvery river and had immersed myself in the familiar religious aura. There had been a bit of an excited crowd that morning as the bedecked temple elephant had ambled by to collect water from the river for Lord Ranganathan and it had been an experience so awesome, that only my Indian roots had stopped me from clapping loudly. The elephant had sported a massive sandalwood tilak (religious symbol of Tamil Brahmins) and portly, bare chested priests resplendent in more tilaks, janeyus (religious thread worn on the upper torso), blingy bordered white lungis (sarongs) had followed it, with their chants ringing loudly through the Cauvery morning.
Pilgrims (men, women and children) had thrown themselves prostrate on the ground in religious fervour, performing the shastanga pranam (the most reverential and solemn form of greeting indigenous of South India) and their shaved sandalwood paste painted scalps had glowed a dull yellow. The holy elephant had obviously been used to all the hullabaloo around it and had faithfully blessed the pilgrims with the familiar trunk thump on their heads, in exchange of coins before making its way back to the temple. Immediately, a busy, commercial change had taken over the holy space as gaggles of pilgrims had bathed and prayed in the river before immersing themselves in various pujas (religious rites) to start their day with. Holy fire had smoked fragrantly from the blazing yagnas (religious rites including fire worship) and Brahmins had chanted melodiously while painting rice paste designs (rangoli) in front of the shrines. In spite of the chaos, which had pervaded, it had been deeply religious and the power of Hindu spirituality had left me (and other tourists) slack jawed.
Owing to my overwhelming surge of emotions, I had decided to leave the hunt for my ancestral house till the very end and had made an immediate bee line for the Ranganathan Temple instead. Dedicated to Lord Ranganathan, the reclining form of God Vishnu, Srirangam temple was so massive that it had literally enclosed a village in its periphery and had felt like a mini town in itself. It was India’s largest temple and was technically located on an islet formed by the Cauvery and Coleroon rivers. Resplendent in beautiful carvings, wall paintings and gopurams (temple towers) the stunning mammoth of a temple was an epitome of excellence of Dravidian style of architecture and was steeped in history, legends and beauty. While, the origin of the temple had remained unclear, its earliest mentions had been found in Sangam era Tamil literature (3rd century B.C-4th century A.D). Revered by all the powerful dynasties who had ruled the region in succession, Ranganathan Temple had inscriptions belonging to the Cholas, Pandyas, Nayakas, Hoysalas and Vijaynagara kings. The glorious idol of the temple however had been established by a Chola king, who had stumbled upon it while chasing after a parrot.
Considered to be the foremost of the 8 self manifested temples of Lord Vishnu and deemed as “kovil” (temple of utmost importance) by Vaishnavs, marvelous legends surrounded the existence of its main idol (lovingly called Azhagiya Manavaalan or the beautiful groom in Tamil by its devotees). It was believed that the Ranganathan Temple’s “Ranga Vimana” idol had been received by Brahma, the creator of the universe in a deep trance like state and been handed over to several people before reaching Lord Rama, hero of the great Indian epic Ramayana (and an avatar/incarnation of Lord Vishnu himself). Rama, had presented the idol to his Sri Lankan ally King Vibhishana, as a token of appreciation for the latter’s help in his battle against the demon King Ravana. When Vibhishana had passed through Srirangam to return to his native country, the idol had wanted to stay back, on the condition that he would always cast his benign glance towards Sri Lanka. Vibhishana had complied and till today the reclining idol of Sri Ranganathan, being true to his word, faced south.
The importance of the idol was not restricted to Hindu Vaishnavs and it was said that Malik Kafur (a Muslim invader from Delhi) had been once taken it with him to the capital. The temple devotees in a daring act of recovery had traveled all the way to Delhi, where they had charmed the emperor with their histrionics. The pleased emperor had returned the idol back to them and it had gone back to Srirangam with an ardent follower in tow. Princess Surathani, who had fallen in love with the deity, had accompanied the idol to Srirangam where she had attained moksha (nirvana) by prostrating herself in front of God of the holy sanctum. This had lead to another attack by a grieving Malik Kafur and nearly 13,000 Vaishnavs of Srirangam had sacrificed their lives to protect the temple. Fierce battle and plundering of Srirangam had ensued till Devdasis, the temple dancers had seduced the army chief to stop the bloodshed. The idols of Ranganathan and his consort Ranganayaki, however had been cleverly removed by 2 spiritual leaders, before the invaders had reached Srirangam and they had traveled all across south India before getting re-instated after nearly 60 years.
Even after so much of eventful ancient history, the legend of Ranganathan had continued until 1747, when the famous Orlov diamond had got stolen from the temple. A large gem, in shape and size of half a chicken’s egg, Orlov Diamond and a similar gem used to serve as the idol’s eyes till it got pilfered by a French army deserter and a Hindu convert. The converted Hindu Frenchman had worshiped at the temple for many years before fleeing to Madras (Chennai) with the stolen diamond. The famous diamond had changed many hands before finally getting purchased by the Russian Count, Grigory Grigorievich Orlov. The count had been a long time lover of the Russian empress, Catherine, the Great and they even had an illegitimate child together. He had been instrumental in dethroning of her husband and her rise to power, but had ultimately been forsaken for another man. The Count, in an attempt to get her affection back, had purchased the diamond for Catherine, who had been lusting after it. Although, he had failed to rekindle the romance, the empress, who had bestowed many gifts on him (including the Marble Palace in St Petersburg), had named the diamond after the count and had it embedded in her Imperial Sceptre. Now a part of the collection of the Diamond Fund at Moscow Kremlin, the resplendent Lord Ranganathan’s eye, the stunning Orlov Diamond remained lost to divinity forever.
While the main deities of Sri Ranganathan temple were Ranganathan and his consort goddess, Ranganayaki , the gargantuan temple was home to many other forms of Vishnu, his mount, gods and saints. Spread over an area of 156 acres and rising upto 237 feet (main entrance tower/Rajagopuram), Srirangam’s Ranganathan Temple was one of the world’s largest religious complex. It had 7 concentric enclosures/prakaras made of thick ramparts which wound around the sanctum and 21 gopurams/temple towers loomed over them. There were 51 shrines, several water bodies, 39 pavilions, massive granaries, temple kitchen, elephant stables and an intricately carved Hall of 1000 granite pillars within the complex. Delicate lotuses with undulating stalks, stories from Hindu mythology, leaping animals and curvaceous royal figures were carved all across the temple complex and the ramparts held ancient inscriptions dedicated to different kings.
Gopurams separated the different precincts and each heralded entrance into deeper part of the temple. Pyramidal in shape, topped with gleaming brass urns and crammed with kaleidoscope of technicolor statues of voluptuous women, mythical creatures, gods, saints and demons, gopurams were indigenous of south Indian temple/Dravidian architecture. A whole time warped Dravidian world had existed inside the temple enclosures and I had wandered past houses, Brahmin training schools, markets, shopping strips, restaurants and streets with noisy traffic in a happy daze. Worshipers were required to pass through the 7 gopurams to reach the divine depths and fragrant smoke, mellifluous religious chants and burning lamps had filled the dark, ancient corridors. Booming voices of the priests had reverberated as they had shouted over screaming children and chanting devotees to maintain discipline. All sort of religious activities were in progress inside the temple and from dance recitals, ear piercings, head shaving to offering baskets of freshly picked flowers to Ranganayaki by silent devotee, marching in with his nose covered (lest he polluted by the divine gifts by smelling them), the entire complex had been pulsating with high octane religious vibes.
The whole area had reeked of butter, aroma oil, milk and flowers and wide eyed devotees had lain in revered prostration all across its stony floors. Lord Ranganathan had rested on a massive 5 headed coiled serpent inside the holy sanctum (where non Hindus were not allowed) and an an OM shaped gold plated shrine had topped the holy womb. Brahma, Vibhishana, Hanumana (monkey god), Garuda (mythical humanoid bird, mount of Vishnu) along with conch and discus (symbols of Vishnu) had clustered by the idol and goddess Ranganayaki, (also known as padi thaanda pathni=lady who doesn’t cross the boundaries of ethics) had presided in the 2nd precinct of the temple. It is said that the deity of Ranganayaki, true to her name, did not come out of her sanctum even during the temple festival and it was her lord Ranganathan, who went to visit her. Strangely, the divine lady like behavioral expectation had clearly spilled over into the mindset of the Srirangam residents and nowhere else on earth had I been propositioned by a man, because of my priestly caste.
The strange incident had taken place after the completion of my Ranganathan Temple visit, when I had gone hunting for my ancestral house through the sleepy donkey riddled lanes of Srirangam. I had had very vague recollections of the location, could speak or read no Tamil and had wandered aimlessly for some time in search of familiar ghosts. Although, the Ranganathan Temple had bolstered my courage and had given me enough mental strength to revisit my childhood, it had not been able to provide me with directions. I had nearly given up hope when a Tamil man had come out of a house to approach me. He had evidently been a proud tilak and lungi sporting, bare torsoed Brahmin man past middle age, whose burning curiosity had made him reach out to my aid. Fluent in English and a perfect gentleman, he had helped me find the house and had even calmed me down when big sobs had racked through me, while ghost walking inside the familiar loving rooms. Memories had sprung at every step and sounds of laughter, cajoling, loving scoldings and pamperings had echoed through them. Known images and friendly, loving ghosts had flashed by and tears had streamed down my face unbridled.
Needless to say, I had left soon, bidding goodbye to my childhood once again and in the seclusion of my auto rickshaw had blabbered about my ancestral roots. Incidentally, it had turned out that my benefactor’s family had had friendly ties with my clan and he had nearly swooned in delight over my identity. New found relief had rushed over his face and he had proudly declared of his intention of accompanying me for the rest of my south India trip, since I was a Brahmin girl traveling alone (and obviously seeking company). He had painstakingly even explained its virtue since he too was a Brahmin widower (thus no naughty sin involved) and it was all that was required to make a memorable end to my Srirangam trip.
Understandably the naughty charm of a solo woman traveler had been hard for him to resist and although I was used to getting propositioned during my solitary wanderings, the Brahmin connection and its virtues had indeed taken me by surprise. Mumbling awkwardly about an imaginary husband, I had fled from the scene and had hastened the auto driver to race back to Trichy. The ride back to RockFort View Hotel (thankfully alone) had been refreshing and I had enjoyed the soft, night breeze of river Cauvery on my face. That night, after dinner, it had felt great to recollect my eventful day while staring at the stars from my bed and I had finally been able to let go of the complex love-hate past. Srirangam’s lit up gopurams had been visible in the glimmering distance and I could manage to sum up the day as beautifully (and successfully nostalgic).
One confusion, however had bothered my peace of mind and I had not been able to decide which one had been more scandalous?..getting propositioned by a man because of my caste or being a NON padi thaanda pathni (lady who doesn’t cross the boundaries of ethics) and pushing the limits of social acceptance too often.
RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE
I left early the next morning
And headed straight
Towards the temple
Of Srirangam
Familiarity had awaited me
And even the Cauvery river
Religious chaos had
Had seemed welcoming
Srirangam visit however
Had not been emotionally easy
And each gopuram
Had heralded
Going deeper
Into a long forgotten past
A grand old religious structure
Ranganathan Temple
Had been rich
Profound
And deeply spiritual
Memories had peeked
From its every niche
And I had loved the
The 2nd home coming
Until a bizarre
Sexist incident
Had marred
Its nostalgic beauty for good.