South India
On my ninth trip to India, I decided to head south. And traveling in India can be very hard. The hardest thing is you don’t speak Hindi, although I made an effort to learn over the years and knew a few words. But as I traveled south, I realized I also didn’t speak Kanada, Malayalam, Tamil and something else. It was very confusing when this was one country with so many languages!
Anyway, you booked the best train fare you could get (you needed to book in advance to get anything decent - Indians loved their train travel) and off you went! I flew south to Bangalore to take a train from that point. I soon realized even though the South is supposed to be a more civilized part of India, it was still India. The problem was having white skin. Everyone was trying to make money from you by charging you double or triple what they charged Indians. Fair enough when things were different, but did anybody know the economy in the US had taken a severe dive since 2008? And by this time I was realizing there were more rich Indians than I could count. They were not at all concerned about the cost of rickshaws!
The horns would drive you absolutely crazy and God knows what they did to your eardrums. It became an established part of their culture because no one stayed within the designated traffic lanes and they didn’t even look to see if someone was coming when they pulled into traffic. It was the responsibility of the person at the rear to brake for you or, you guessed it, blow his horn! I bought ear plugs to deal with the extreme stupidity, thanks to my friends’ good advice. And the interesting thing was these guys, driving like maniacs and blowing their horn every two minutes, didn’t know they were doing anything wrong. On large government trucks there are signs saying, Blow Horn in order to keep from having a serious accident when someone wanted to pass. You lived with it. It was part of life there.
Bangalore was interesting. No bicycle rickshaws there, only motor. People were nice. There were many tall office buildings and modern apartment buildings. I stayed in an area where there were American businesses, nice restaurants, coffee shops, etc. and yet I booked a place that was a dump. You never knew. Best thing is not to pay until you check out. I learned a good lesson.
From Bangalore I went to Mysore - the area known for sandalwood. I thought I would check out a factory that made soap, and incense, but things turned out very differently. I checked into my guest house (very nice room and staff). They gave me a tourist book and I began to read about the area. Mysore was an amazing place with spiritual temples dating 750-1000 years old. Not wishing to waste my precious time, I picked up the phone and ordered an auto rickshaw for a quick tour of a large Durga temple and a stone carving of Shiva’s Bull, Nandi.
Every time I traveled in India was a surprising adventure and this time was no different. You just never knew what to expect, and the circus started right there. The rickshaw driver picked me up with his own agenda. (I should have known better as I hired drivers like that in Delhi, but he caught me off guard.) We start heading towards the local tourist temple called Chamundi Durga on Chamundi Hill. I was agitated cause the driver kept stopping along the way. I was thinking he just wanted to extend his time for more money, but instead he guided me on an excellent tour, speaking perfect English. He had been born and raised in the area and knew everything about its history. He first stopped at a large lake where he began to tell me about the legend there.
Apparently, the lake is filled with alligators. They sometimes come up on the banks to sun themselves and visitors can see them, he explained. The crazy thing, I thought was, people rent paddle boats in the lake. What?!?!? Paddling across the lake when an alligator could easily turn you over and have you for lunch? The fish must be abundant there because he said there were no incidents of attacks whatsoever.
Then he began to explain how that particular lake was one of the largest migration lakes in Asia for birds migrating from Europe going south, to somewhere. This usually happened in February, he said and then in March, all of a sudden, millions of butterflies would appear at that same lake! He explained if you go to the other side of the lake at that time, gold and purple, turquoise and pink butterflies would mob you and stick all over your body, from head to toe, from the crown of your head to the tips of your fingers, causing you to feel like an angel with wings about to lift off from the earth and fly away!
Ok, I’d heard enough, I thought. Not even sure if my brain could contain it all, but I asked one question. “Are there any tigers around here? Everywhere I see restaurants referring to this area as the jungle!” He answers, “Oh no madam, there are no tigers here.” I thought, Ok, I guess it’s a safe place when he said, “There are only cheetahs.” I’m thinking, oh really, only cheetahs, eh? Then he explained they only come out at night to hunt peacocks and turkeys and other small animals. Their bones are found here and there in the ‘jungle’ in daylight. Ok, an animal has to eat. Cool. You won’t find that happening too near Los Angeles, I thought! India is definitely different.
Then, as we headed up the hill towards Chamundi Durga, he stopped again. I’m thinking, What are you doing now? I just want to go up the hill to see the temple! Big mistake on my part. Once again he began to tell me a story.
“See this broken branch? This is a sandalwood tree. People will see it and break off a branch, thinking they will take a souvenir home and it will smell good eternally. What they don’t know is the fragrance doesn’t come until the tree is mature and at that time, the tree is very large.” He brings the branch to my nose, scrapes it with his key and says, “Do you smell anything?” I say, “No.” But here is the amazing thing! I do smell something! I smell the whole mountain! It is the sweetest smell I have ever smelled out in open space. How can a mountain smell so good? I found out later, it was not only the sandalwood trees, but the abundance of jasmine growing everywhere! I could smell it a block away from a garland stand where vendors were selling those beautiful wreaths to offer to the Gods in the temples and I could smell it that morning on the way up the hill.
But wait! There’s more! Sounds like a commercial that if you order right now, you will get two at the same price, you only have to pay shipping and handling, right? But yeah! We go on up the hill and as we reach its summit, he begins to talk again. He tells me the story of Chamundi Hill and Chamundi Durga.
The temple was stunning! 1000 years old, made of clay, egg shells, egg whites and seashells. Really? Egg shells and egg whites? Ok, what next?
Well, there was plenty, but here’s a little information I thought was interesting. You saw this huge temple from the distance and you thought it would be gigantic inside. There is a zig zag line of pilgrims waiting to get in, at least 500 to 600 people deep. Then, when you finally get in, you realize the huge temple is only a gate. The doors to the interior are made of pure silver and are carved with different forms of God in His /Her respective incarnations and are about 20 feet tall and 6 feet wide times two doors. The deity inside is maybe only 2 feet high, located in an area about 8’x 8'. I thought the deity was going to be at least 10 feet tall, being in such a large temple, but it was still amazing and I’m glad I went. So much more to tell, but, you know, you had to be there.
We headed down the hill and there lay the 16‘x25’ bull carved out of one huge black stone! Or was it carved? Maybe it just appeared. I was beginning to believe in miracles. Seems that before Chamundi Durga appeared, there was a Shiva temple in that location, thus the large black bull, Nandi, who is the carrier of Shiva, was awaiting His master. There was a fantastic story of how Lord Siva left the area and Chamundi killed a demon there and the temple was constructed in her honor. There are amazing God stories all over India.
We headed back down the hill to town and the driver took me to check out a special incense shop where an old woman is rolling the dung by hand. I declined to buy and they think I’m weird, but I was used to getting the same quality incense for a lot less in Vrindavan. On the way, we went through a Muslim area. OMG! I thought burkas were prominent in mostly muslim countries, but here they were, in groups of 6 to 8 women shopping at stores where the clothing was made from shiny silk, embroidered satin, sequins and jewels. This was a contradiction to me, covered in black but yet sequined underneath. Yeah, I got the reasoning. Only their husbands should see them in sexy or beautiful clothing, but why give the husband that much power? This seemed a recipe for male dominance and abuse to me. Sorry, the whole submissive thing wrenches at my gut!
For my first taste of South India, I found a vegetarian restaurant and ordered idli with sambar and a crepe-like sculpture called a dosha with coconut chutney on the side. This was their traditional breakfast. I delved into it with real curiosity. The idli was some sort of steamed rice cake and the sambar was a very spicy hot tomato sauce. Interesting, for sure, but it would not be my first choice in world cuisines. The dosha was a sweetened, crispy, white flour crepe fried in ghee and swirled upwards like an eight inch pyramid. Again, it was both delicious and beautiful, but that would be the last time I ate one. I was thinking with all this wheat growing here, why are they using tasteless white flour? It would be much better with whole wheat flour. After all, I just spent miles and miles of traveling on the train, looking out at coconut trees, banana plantations, wheat fields, rice fields and sugar cane. But the most disappointing thing of all was the coconut chutney. There I was in the land of coconuts and the coconut chutney was salty. The coconut was dried and pulverized with some herbs so you hardly knew it was coconut at all. Now, I didn’t mean to insult a country or region’s cuisine and I knew many people loved South Indian cuisine, but really? I was hoping to taste something akin to coconut cream pie or macaroons, especially with a sweet crepe! Oh well, I learned something every day as I traveled.
Not sure why, buy Mysore left a huge impression on me, more than most places. Here goes just one more little detail!
Dobs with a squeeze of lime - 15 rupees, but it didn’t end there. When you finished the coconut water, the vendor (wala) took the dob back from you, broke it open and scrapped out the soft coconut meat with a broken portion of the nut shell. Then he squeezes a little more lime on the luscious sweet pulp and hands it back to you. Oh yeah! sooo good!
I never wanted to take a bus in India before. I’d seen them passing cars, swaying, overcrowded and wheels loose. Nevertheless, I wanted to go to this one place really bad, so I took a bus, the only way to get there unless you wanted to get a taxi and pay $100. It turned out ok. Burka woman sat next to me. She was a school teacher and very nice. Transferred to another bus in a location where the children wanted a pen or pencil from America. Their habit was to collect those things from foreigners. Cute, I thought.
The bus finally landed at my destination - 23 km south of Mysore in a place called “Somanathapuram” the literal translation meaning “nectarian place of the lord.” Soma means nectar, natha means lord and puram means place, and it was a place of nectar in a grove of coconut trees, existing all alone in an isolated forest. There, in that grove, was a 750 year old temple taken care of by the Archeological Department of the Indian government. The name of the temple was the Keshava Mandir. There was a guide (for a fee) to take me around. I arrived just before they closed at sunset and the sky was leaving a pink glow on the ancient temple. It was beautiful! Shades of yellow, gold and pinks surrounded the sun as it slowly faded in the West and the guide gave me a private tour.
I could try and describe it, but I can’t describe it. I will, however, say this. I felt like the place was from another planet that appeared from the sky and landed in this beautiful coconut grove. The entire complex was on a base of a pink granite star and it glowed in the setting sun. The three-domed temple housed three deities, two original, 750 years old and one replica because the original was stolen by the British and is now in the British museum. Around the perimeter of the complex were 64 chambers where 64 demigods resided, all gone now. And finally, the carvings in the temple were perfect with tiny holes you could pass a toothpick through for air circulation, as was demonstrated by my guide. Demigods, as well as the 10 major avatars or incarnations of Vishnu, were carved into the temple from top to bottom. Pictures were allowed, so I took as many as I could before the sun forced me to return to my hotel.
Leaving Mysore, I traveled south on the train to Kannur where there were trained dancers who channeled the different gods. These dancers, with their huge headdresses and painted faces, felt the god come alive within them and in trance began their performance. They danced from December to February and during that time they were required to be clean in body, mind and soul. “We are a vehicle through which people can thank the gods for fulfilling their prayers and granting their wishes.” Quoted from “Nine Lives” by William Dalrymple. Unfortunately what I saw was they were a vehicle to take your money. I laughed. What’s new?!? I read his book before I left for South India and made sure I could schedule a visit to the dancers. Kannur lies next to the Arabian Sea where the views were outstanding, so it was a good stop.
From Kannur I traveled south to the ashram of Ama, said to be an incarnation of the Divine Mother, and got a shakti hug. I definitely believed she was empowered. The feeling was indescribable as she was talking with others, laughing as if she were in a restaurant drinking tea when all of a sudden she would grab you around the neck and hug you saying something in your ear in Malayalam. Later I found out what she was saying was “Oh my daughter. My darling daughter!” Stunned in ecstasy, I staggered over to an empty seat and sat mesmerized for around 45 minutes until I finally got up and walked outside. Wow. She was real! That was my second hug from her, the first one was in Berkeley, California. I thought if I ever got another chance, I would definitely get another one! You could understand why people stood in line silently for hours waiting for their turn to get her Love.
Her ashram, also located by the Arabian Sea in Kollam, was in the middle of a coconut grove with a canal to the East where boats rides were sold to tourists. Since I was a sailor, I checked out the one and only marina in all of India located in Cochin just south of her ashram. There were 34 slips but only 6 boats. One of those was from Alaska. While there I asked the dock master why there weren’t many sailboats. He explained that people were concerned about sailing the South Indian seas because of the pirates from Somalia.
“Really?” I explained, “I knew two people who were killed by those pirates. My sailing instructor in Los Angeles and his wife took another couple with them as they sailed their 60 foot yacht delivering bibles to other countries as missionaries. I didn’t know her, but I worked with Scott for six weeks taking a sailing class from the Coast Guard Auxiliary at the Del Rey Yacht Club. He was charming and captivating, a wonderful man.”
Anyway, the marina was pretty empty and my thoughts of moving south in India and living on a boat in that location quickly faded. I really wanted to be in Vrindavan if I decided to move to India. Besides, India did not appear to appreciate sailing yet. If they ever did, I thought, the marina was excellently located with a Yacht Club for sailors. Below that is Allepey, the Venice of India, where there are canals with boats designed to mimic the gondolas found on the canals in Venice, Italy. In addition, there was a houseboat community I wanted to check out. These houseboats were huge and nothing like the one I lived on in California. They were more like hotels! Very interesting.
I made three more stops before I headed north again. Kovalum Beach was a tourist area, almost to lands end, with a great sandy cove and lots of europeans staying there for the winter. Located in the state of Kerala, it was famous for their Ayurvedic treatments and massage therapy. Yep, got a great hot oil massage with a special session for Shirodhara therapy where a therapist drenched my third eye with hot herbal oil streaming from an upside-down tear-shaped container with a hole in the bottom. The constant stream of the hot therapeutic oil put my mind at ease while two ladies gently rubbed it into my forehead, my temples and my scalp. The experience was heavenly. The purpose was to decrease the vata or air in your head that causes ailments. Luxury! I would do it again, but with a place providing a 20-gallon hot water heater so you could wash your hair for as long as you liked.
The next stop was at the very tip of India where the Arabian sea meets the Indian ocean and the Bay of Bengal. Kanniyakumari is the name. That place exuded power! The energy at the confluence was so strong it felt like it could have been the center of the universe. The waves crashed against each other with a violence that made me shudder! I knew a girl from my marina in California who sailed the Indian Ocean where her boat capsized and I remembered her as I glared at the sea! By that time, I was getting much closer to the equator, so the sun also made itself brilliantly known. What can I say? I really liked that place! There was an enormous statue and museum dedicated to Swami Vivekananda and another one dedicated to Mahatma Gandhi . I visited the tributes briefly and paid my respects.
Finally I headed north to Madurai where the famously gigantic temple of Durga resides, and by that time I was completely burned out, with train travel, with rickshaws and with the Indian culture. Just get me back to my apartment in Vrindavan where my friends are from the West, I thought. So I called my travel agent, grabbed a plane the next morning and I was gone.
There is always so much more to tell about India than a person can describe to their friends, but I tried. I’d traveled a bit and every place displayed its unusual characteristics, but India was without a doubt the most exotic culture experienced to date. Would I advise you to go? Not sure. You would have to be pretty transcendental or you might … never mind.