The Godly Trip - II

“It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is the journey that matters in the end.”

- Ursula K. LeGuin

Yes. I love journeys. So there I was on the 7 o’ clock train to Kolhapur from Tirupati, tired and thoughtful. My profession requires me to cross-reference, so let me recap episode 1 for the uninitiated. I had set off to Tirupati, the abode of Lord Balaji, with 18 unknown marauders and had a perfectly lovely time. Now we were on the second leg of the journey – to see Goddess Mahalakshmi, Lord Balaji’s first wife.

We started the journey off with a fight. Another family had been allotted the same seats as we. We realized only 2 hours into the journey when the ticket checker informed us that 6 of us had been pushed into the AC compartment. So six of the gang packed up and moved, bag and baggage, into the AC compartment few bogies away. That brought the mood down a bit. Everyone was already tired anyway. So I sat by the window and watched the world go by.

At 1.00 in the night, we reached a place called Guntakal. The train halts there for about an hour and a half. My fellow nicotine starved souls jumped off the train, the moment it came to a halt to puff away at the cancer stick. And I followed. I was hungry. It was 1.00 in the morning and I was ravenous. I have never got off the train post midnight before. It was unusually quiet. The shops had exhausted the day’s wares. A few vendors caught their forty winks in the comfort of their tiny shops. At a distance, there was a small crowd and crowds on an empty station generally mean food. And indeed it was – steaming hot idlis and crispy medu wadas, served with spicy green chutney. Like all midnight feasts, this too was delightful.

The government of India has banned smoking in public places. You may invite a fine, if caught smoking in the station. So we took a walk out of the station. Given the group’s previous track record at missing trains, I silently hoped we wouldn’t have to go through the same ordeal again. Soaking in the nighttime calm and the lost in the swirls of smoke we talked and we laughed.

We reached Kolhapur at 5 in the evening the following day, thoroughly exhausted and with no place to lay our heads. Yes, we were booked nowhere and we knew no one in this strange city. I can still look at the humor of the situation and I did then. Our ever resourceful guys went round the city for an hour and finally managed to get us a decent place to stay.

The same night we went to the Mahalakshmi temple. The Mahalakshmi temple in Kolhapur is a huge stone temple and possibly dates back to 700 A.D. There are tall “deepstambhas”( where candles/diyas are lit) even as the temple structure rises higher in the background. It is one of the “shakti peetha”s. The temple was virtually empty as we reached post 8.30. It was a major contrast to the super crowded temples in Tirupati and that somehow rendered serenity to it. Plates of offerings in hand we walked into the temple.

The temple is beautiful. There are intricate carvings everywhere. You can’t help but absorb the sanctity of the place. Even as we walked out, vermillion smeared on our foreheads and the sweet taste of prasad lingering on our palate, we couldn’t but be devout, at least for that time.

After the temple experience, we had to find a place to eat - at 11 in the night, in an unknown city. So we started walking. Lonely, empty streets, aching legs and so many bald heads (at Tirupati most of my fellow comrades donated all the hair on their head). It was extremely painful and yet hilarious with everyone shouting obscenities at each other. But we did finally find a place to fill our stomachs in a nondescript lane in the dark streets of Kolhapur.

I have tendency to push myself to the limit till I can take no more and the group with me was no less. Even though we were exhausted out of our wits we still wanted to keep up. So we started off with “teen patti”, or three card poker. And mind you it was the real deal (with money). With giggles and the occassional flare ups over supposed cheating, it was indeed a memorable experience.

The next day, we were scheduled to catch a train back home. But that was at 9 in the evening. The entire day though had already been planned, or so I found out. We woke up early morning amidst ill-tempered yells and abuses (guys don’t like waking up early) and got dressed. By 9 am we were packed up into two cabs and on our way to Narsobachiwadi.

Narsobachiwadi is a temple not too far from Kolhapur city. It is dedicated to Narsinh Saraswati, an incarnation of Lord Dattatreya, who is believed to have lived here. It is a tiny temple at the confluence of the rivers Krishna and Panchaganga. The tiny stalls outside the temple serve generous proportions of good Maharashtrian and south Indian food. Famished, we dug into whatever came our way.

On the steps outside the temple

The temple itself was again not all that crowded. There were people bathing in the river by the river bank. Water as you know is extremely attractive. So we went and dipped our feet into the water. Just as we posed for a picture, I got this curious sensation on my feet and I was told that the fish nibble at your feet while you’re in the water. It was tickly and fun. No wonder it’s used as therapy.

Panhala fort

After the darshan, we took off for Panhala, a hill station close to Kolhapur. Panhala is home to the Panhala fort, which is a large, imposing structure. We reached the fort close to sunset and the looming structure seemed strangely eerie in the falling light. We didn’t have enough time to actually see the entire place. But we did manage to hit some of the famous lookout spots.

In one of the forlorn chambers of Panhala fort

We sang all the way back from Panhala to Kolhapur, packed up our stuff and boarded the train. Everyone was suitably tired on the last leg of the journey. So the lads put up a faux movie hall in the confines of the AC compartment of the train. With blankets to block the door and cover the lights, and blankets laid out on the aisle, we watched The Texas Chainsaw massacre on a barely 10 inch screen.

The whirlwind trip was over. What a journey it had been.

One of the most vivid memories that I have from that trip was Guntakal, the tiny station on the train ride from Tirupati to Kolhapur. I remember sitting on the cold stone slab surrounded by people I had barely known for a few days and feeling comfortable being me; not having to think about who thought what, liked and disliked, or proving myself (things that I normally tend to do). Like William Hazlitt, a British writer, put forth so well, “The soul of a journey is liberty, perfect liberty, to think, feel, do, just as one pleases”. And that is what made that trip one of the most memorable of all.

[I would like to dedicate both these posts to the wonderful folks who went with me on this trip. You guys are the best!]