"A bunch of mad men herding around like wildebeests through the forest, taking all the pain in the world possible, just to see a small brass idol placed on top of a mountain"- this was exactly what I was thinking while I was walking through the Periyar Tiger Reserve's forest track path that led us to Pampa.
Jan 4: My uncle, his friend and I left Erumeli at around 3:30 pm with all the paraphernalia that a swamy usually carries along. This route, known as the velliya paadam, was reputed for its treacherous and notorious path through deep forests, mountains, valleys, streams, occasional wild animals, and what not. To add insult to injury, "God" had very wisely garnished the path not with flowers, but with sharp stones, gravel, thorns, and tree roots. "What's the big deal in it? Any amateur backpacker can do this easily isn't it?" you may ask ignorantly. Yes anybody can. In fact, any chowderhead who has legs can do it. But, try doing the same feat barefooted and you will know exactly what I'm speaking about. It is for this reason that I consider the Sabarimala swamis to be one of the most extreme backpackers in the world.
Handling the rough and uneven terrain complete with a side-bag that is used to carry all their gear, and another bag (irumudi kettu) which is filled with coconuts and rice neatly balanced on their heads requires immense determination and strength (physical and mental). The side-bag gives you sore shoulders because it only has one strap to carry all the weight with, and the headgear leaves you with a bad neck. Leave alone the benefits of doing such things, the only thing I inferred out of this whole exercise was- whoever invented these torturous ways in their quest to see Lord Ayyappan's idol must have been the biggest goddamn masochist of his times.
We came to a halt at 11 pm after covering exactly half the distance (27 km), for a small nap of five hours. With many resting enclosures and food joints built by the forest department all along the way, it wasn't difficult for us to finally get a place to sleep. These places, as I realised later, were a boon for us swamis because it not only provided us with food and shelter during our respite, but it also helped keep the wild animals away from us with the help of the generator they used for lighting the place. The commotion that the people inside and outside these shelters made, was another deterrent.
The sleep I had that night, in spite of all the turmoil around me, was one of the most relieving and satisfying experiences I've had in my entire life.
Jan 5: It was really cold outside and my feet were hurting like crazy, but I had to wake up. We still had a lot to cover and according to my uncle, five hours of sleep was much more than the usual three hours he slept whenever he went there alone. We marched forward and joined the other swamis who were ever-present on the track which led us to the holy shrine. We walked for another four hours and stopped for breakfast near the base of the gruesome and deadly Karimala.
We were advised not to eat a lot as the climb was supposed to be extremely tiresome for our bodies to handle. Not just that, even the descend downhill was supposed to be one of the most difficult phases of this entire traditional route journey. No wonder the swamis chanted Karimala ketam/erakkam kateenam kateenam every now and then. The steep climb uphill seemed endless and at the end of every peak out of a total of seven that make up the Karimala I was left gasping for breath. After another five hours of ups and downs, with some respite in between and with both my feet torn underneath, we finally reached Pampa at 3 pm. We had lunch from here and then I got my feet examined by the attender in one of the medical assistance centres. Since the doctor was missing, I had to make do with some hydrogen peroxide solution poured on the wound and some pain killer tablets given by the attender. I knew this wasn't going to help.
My fears came true when I entered the Pampa river for a bath. Both my feet started burning very badly as soon as I entered the holy river for a dip. After cleansing our sweaty and tired bodies, and washing away our "sins", we entered the foothill of Neelimala, the abode of Lord Ayyappan. From there, it was a good 6 km walk uphill, a distance which would have normally taken us one hour to climb, but because of the sheer number of devotees present, it took us- I kid you not- nine damn hours. It was virtually slower than even wind erosion. We finally reached the Sannidhanam at 12:30 am the following day.
Jan 6: I was rudely awakened by the cops at 1:30 am for having dozed off in between one of the unused railings that formed a serpentine path that led us to the sanctifying 18 steps. But, the only problem was that we had got there a bit late (the shrine closes at 11 pm and reopens only at 4 am). So, we had no other option, but to wait in the biggest queue I had ever seen in my entire life for another 3.5 hours. This didn't seem to be a big deal, what with all the hurdles we had crossed to reach this place in comparison. The analgesic wasn't working at all as was reflected by the writhing pain on both my feet, but I was helpless. The only hope I had was to get it dressed with medication after my darshanam.
At 4 am, a divine voice got us all excited. It was the voice of Yesudas, the famous singer who was blessed with a child after his first visit to this temple, singing the Suprabatham. This song reckons the opening of the shrine for its devotees. This was an indication for the tumultuous crowd to start moving once again- this time around, towards the 18 steps that ultimately led all of them to the sanctum sanctorum for all sanctification.
We broke our coconuts near the entrance of the 18 steps and proceeded towards the shrine. It was while climbing the 18 steps that I realised I didn't need to take any effort at all. All that you had to do was to stand there and the policemen standing on either sides would automatically lift you like gunny bags (literally) and push you upwards. Wow! What a ride. My uncle told me later on that I should have stood in the centre of the line, where the cops couldn't lay their hands on me. But what left me satisfied at the end of it all was that I was able to get a good darshanam of Lord Ayyappa. A small brass idol inside the sanctum sanctorum which was being smeared all over with clarified butter. Without pondering much, I glibly led myself to believe that the efforts were all worth it.
After coming back to the Sannidhanam, I laid my towel on the balcony of the Sabarimala post office and put myself in 'deep slumber' mode. After all, who could be satisfied with just one hour of sleep, eh? I was awoken by my uncle at 9 am so that we could scoot from the place. On our way back, I entered the Government dispensary where the doctor gave me a tetanus injection and his attender neatly dressed the wound for me in order to prevent further infections. I also bought myself a pair of slippers. I could "officially" wear one now. Phew!
I covered up a lot of my pending sleep on the various bus and train journeys that I took to get back home. It was such a good feeling to return to the (un)civilised world once again. A world of vices. After all, I had learned the hard way that being religious to such an extreme degree was definitely not my cup of tea.
PS: It is entirely a matter of personal choice to follow any such religious beliefs. If this is one's way of finding solace and peace of mind, so be it. The Sabarimala swamis are doing exactly that and I don't have anything to complain about. It only increases my respect towards them. Swamy Sharanam!
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