The year was 1290 . A crowd had gathered around a clearing, where broken down pillars marked the presence of an ancient temple, now long gone. A young boy, just 14 years old, leaned against one of those pillars, deep in thought. Then, he began speaking, and the crowd fell silent, listening to his every word. He spoke without any notes, translating the Bhagavat Gita, from Sanskrit, which only the pundits knew, to the language everyone in the village knew and spoke – a variety of Prakrit which developed into the Marathi language. Even as he spoke, one of the men in the audience realized how momentous this event was, and how important this composition would be. He began writing down the words the young boy spoke, and this composition was named by its author and composer, the Bhavartha Deepika – the enlightening meaning (of the Bhagavat Gita). Now, the ancient, holy text, was no longer restricted to the pundits, but accessible to all, understood easily by them, composed as it was, in their...
I
was, but a child
when my mom first told me the story of the bride who waited for her groom to
arrive, and when the sun rose, but there was no sign of him, she turned the
food prepared into sand, herself to stone, and stood forever, looking out into
the sea. As I grew older, I heard different versions of this story – of the
demon only she, an unmarried girl could kill, and of her nose ring, which shone
so brightly, that ships, mistaking it for a lighthouse, steered this way, and
were dashed against the rocks – but it remained just as poignant as ever. The
stories fired my imagination, and my mom’s descriptions fascinated me. “How
fantastic it would be, to see sands of different colours, or to see the merging
of two great seas!” I thought, and waited eagerly for the day I would travel to
Kanyakumari!
 |
| The most recognizable landmarks at Kanyakumari today |
My
mom had visited Kanyakumari as a child, and her stories of the temple were interspersed with her
descriptions of the town. It was then, in the early 1950s, just a little more
than a village, pristine and unspoilt, with vast stretches of beaches and the
temple standing near the confluence, the goddess looking out at the horizon! It
was all terribly fascinating, but Kanyakumari eluded me. We tried to visit multiple
times, but something always went wrong. A couple of years ago, when we visited
Srinagar, the regret only increased. I had visited Kashmir, but not
Kanyakumari, though I hailed from Tamilnadu!
 |
| Our Land's end - Kanyakumari |
This
May, I finally set foot at Kanyakumari, accompanied by my mom and mother-in-law! And
where was Samhith? With his aunt at Tiruppur, enjoying himself and least
interested in the Temple Run we were about to begin!
Our
train dropped us
at Nagercoil junction amidst heavy, unseasonal rain, and we were
welcomed on our arrival at the TTDC Kanyakumari resort by peacocks! Elated
by the sight, we set forth to see the town, the temple, and the beach.
The
first thing that struck me at Kanyakumari was – Where were the beaches? Every inch of sand seemed
to have been taken over. Either there were grand promenades, well paved
walkways, or, where there was some sand, we could only see stalls.
Choosing
to visit the Vivekananda Rock Memorial (which wasn’t there when my mom visited), we
headed to the boat jetty. If I had known that we would have to stand for over 2
hours in the queue (and that, apparently wasn’t too long, since it was a
weekday!) I would never have even looked towards it!
 |
| Vivekananda Rock Memorial |
The
Vivekananda Rock Memorial was filled with tourists. How I wished I could imagine those days when
Vivekananda swam across the turbulent sea and meditated on this very rock! The
turbulent sea was still there, and, standing on one edge, looking out at the
horizon, there was a sense of spiritual peace. Which was shattered the moment
someone rushed with a phone camera to take a ‘selfie’!
 |
| Vivekananda Rock Memorial, all lit up, at night |
We
were content to
see the Tiruvallur statue from afar, and rushed back to the mainland, and made
our way to the temple.
 |
| Tiruvallur Statue |
The
long queue here
wasn’t surprising, and the deity herself was much like I had imagined her, from
the many photos I have seen, over the years. Her nose ring gleamed, a constant
reminder of the legends, and I wondered if it could still be seen from the sea,
considering the massive crowds these days! Of course, the temple authorities are
taking no chances, and the eastern door is always kept closed.
 |
| The goddess as seen on the entrance arch of the temple |
Walking
down the beaches,
or what remained of them, I agonized over the fact that I couldn’t see the
different colored sands any more. I hadn’t even been able to see the colour
shift in the merging of the seas, since it was, by now, raining, and the skies
had darkened. “There goes my sunset” I thought, gloomily.
We
awoke early the
next morning, keeping our fingers crossed, and walked to the tower constructed
by the TTDC behind the resort. It was meant for viewing the sunrise and sunset,
and I hoped that, having missed the sunset, the gods would have some pity and
show us a beautiful sunrise. The looming clouds were a clear indication that it
was not to be, and the only drama in the sky was the sun rising behind the
clouds, a glimpse of red and orange escaping from confinement now and then!
Here
again, the
tower was so filled with people, that had there been a proper sunrise, it would
have been difficult to capture it from over the many heads taller than mine!
 |
| These view towers might be useful for good views of sunrise/sunset, but they seem to mar the landscape, which otherwise would have been an unspoilt stretch of sand |
Kanyakumari
was a disappointment, but mostly because of my imagination, and the great expectations I
had. I did know that things wouldn’t be the same, but reality was far worse
than I could have imagined. For my mom, it was nothing like her earlier visit –
everything seemed different. In retrospect, it was a lesson – to go without
expectations, and enjoy things as they are.
However, as always, there is a silver
lining. I can, at last, say with assurance - “I have travelled from Kashmir to Kanyakumari!”
This
post is part of my series on my #summertrip 2015, and I hope to take you along
with me as I recount stories from my month long trip, which took me across the
country. To get an idea of all the places I visited, and what you can hope to
read about, click here.
Related
Posts:
Nice account of your visit to Kanykumari. Yeah, sunrises and sunsets at Kanyakumari are wonderful. A reason to go back!
ReplyDeleteThank you Niranjan!
DeleteI loved reading your narration all through. Fine.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Chandrasekhar!
DeleteThe sunrise eluded me in the last 2 trips. But the colorful sky made it up during the last trip.
ReplyDeleteThats just pure luck, Sai!
Deleteeven though u were dissapointed we were not on reading the post ...very nice account...i had been to the place about ten yrs ago and had felt a sense of calm and peace there ..i guess over the years things have changed a little
ReplyDeleteThings have definitely changed a lot, Ani. Yet, the peace and calm is there, we just have to go looking for it!
DeleteI traveled to Kanyakumari last December, you know I was disappointed too. My kids played in the water close to Vivekananda rock and had rashes but none the less the Trip became memorable because of Chotavilai beach, popular among the local's and its clean, empty, calm and serene. We had the whole beach to ourselves and my kids enjoyed every bit of it. I think the only place that was worth going in Kanyakumari was Chotavilai Beach.
ReplyDeleteIt must have been good to have that beach for yourself, Sowmya. I would have gone searching for beaches had I visited with my son, but since I was with my mother and mother in law, I didnt even search, but was content with just exploring the area. I do hope to take my son someday, and will remember this. thanks!
Delete