Chapter 31:
As he packed his bags that afternoon, Arnav decided to go through some of the travel guides he had purchased at the airport. He was ready to leave for Kanyakumari the in a few hours, and Khushi seemed more excited than himself when he'd spoken to her on the phone a few minutes back.
Arnav landed in Thiruvananthapuram three days back. On Nani's insistence, he had decided to inform one of his old mates from college who now lived in the southern city of his trip. The outcome was just as he'd expected. Arjun, his friend, and his wife Anu had insisted that he spend a couple of days with them before he left for his trip. Though not particularly excited at the prospect in the beginning, he had to admit that he had a great time.
It was propitious that he'd landed on Thursday night, so they had the entire weekend to themselves. He missed Khushi the whole time, especially at dinner when Anu made sure he was stuffed with a delicious meal up to his neck. They spent a day in the city and the other two driving down to the neighbouring towns. Travels across India almost always managed to leave him spellbound; one look at the lush, the untainted beauty of the hills, the water that gushed through the falls roaring ferociously as it mingled with the rains - and he realised why people referred to the state as God's own country. He had to bring Khushi here!
But the best outcome of his stay in Thiruvananthapuram, however, was Arjun's suggestion that he ditch a rented car and instead ride his way to Kanyakumari. He was kind enough to offer his own bike - an offer so tempting, Arnav didn't have the heart to refuse.
A few pages into the excruciatingly detailed travel guide, Arnav managed to fall asleep. One wonderful nap later, he bade farewell to the generous hosts. The helmet (that Khushi had asked him to remember - multiple times!) in place and his shades (a gift from Khushi) resting on his nose, he was on NH-47 in no time, riding his way through the luscious greens as the heat of the afternoon made its way for the gentle evening. He felt that familiar rush again, the joy that came with racing against the winds, in speeding past the spectating trees, in discovering the several turns and the myriad sights that lay ahead. He wished it would be okay to take the helmet off and let the breeze ruffle his hair. The next second he had the furious faces of his grandmother and Khushi flash in front of his eyes, and he decided against it.
He took a short break along the way to grab a bite, but he kept it really short to ensure he was at his destination before the night set in. He reached the small town just past sunset and the GPS on his phone did a fine job directing him to his accommodation. He considered stepping out for the walk, but later decided to rest for the night and start afresh the next day. He wanted to visit the Kanyakumari temple the first thing in the morning - it was the one place he vividly recalled his mother describing, and he wanted to start the trip in her remembrance.
He called Khushi, but their conversation was brief since the both of them were exhausted at the end of the long day. It was obvious she was having a hard time, he hoped it would be over soon.
***
The Kanyakumari temple, or the temple of the virgin goddess, set amidst the ocean - Arnav tried to remember the details as he removed his slippers outside and set foot inside the temple. He had stepped out quite early in the morning in the hopes to avoid a heavy crowd - and while it still wasn't as quiescent as he had expected, he was still happy with his decision. He was asked to take his shirt off at the entrance, as was the rule for all men entering the temple. The cold chill of the morning was forgotten as soon as he set his eyes of the beauty of the temple that his mother had once admired. He was in time for the morning aarti; Arnav was by no means a religious man but there were a sense of beatitude in the rhythm of the chants and sanctity in the holy fire that he could not deny or overlook. The goddess herself was breath taking, a sight he couldn't take his eyes off - and he wondered if it was just his nostalgia that made him think of his mother as he looked into the sparkling eyes of the deity.
The circumambulation was more or less perfunctory from his end, as he tried his best to recollect the many stories and myths his mother spoke of regarding the temple and the goddess. He sat down facing the ocean, taking in the sound of the waters and the crisp winds. His memory seemed to be playing games with him. He tried to recall what his mother's words about the sangam of three oceans - the Arabian Sea, the Indian Ocean and the Bay of Bengal - in Kanyakumari - and before he could finish that thought, he remembered the text from one of the travel guides that claimed that it was untrue - that Kanyakumari, though the southernmost tip of the Indian subcontinent, bordered only the Lakshadweep Sea.
He now recollected the way his Maa spoke of the oceans, about the anecdotes of sailors and fishermen who claimed to have lost their way mistaking the brilliant sparkle of the deity's nose ring for a signal from a lighthouse. And yet, they worshipped her as the protector of the land and the sea, a muse and a guiding force to the fishermen. Perhaps they had every reason to - the ships lost their way but the sailors lived to tell the tales. As he looked at the crashing waves, he realised how similar they were to memories - one ended and another began, and yet they were seamless.
His mother had a way of making stories out of the most mundane things, and as a child he found himself awestruck and fascinated with every word she spoke. Sometimes, it was so easy to recall her voice; he could hear it as if she were standing right behind him. And sometimes he could wrack his brains for hours and it would still be blank; those were terrifying moments - what if he forgot her voice, her laughter, her stories, her melodies? Her smiles were frozen in cherished photographs - but what of the tinkle of payal, the clinking of her bangles, the melody in her voice? His worst fear was that his memory would fail him someday - and he would forget the bits of his mother he had held on to so fiercely for all these years.
But today was not one of those days. Perhaps it was the ocean, or maybe this town or the temple. Today, in this moment, he could remember everything. The voice, the stories, the laughter. The goddess, a maiden, a mesmerising beauty who was devoted to Lord Shiva and was to marry him. But she was destined not for marital bliss but to destroy evil - Bana - the devil who could only be slayed by a virgin. Narada - the wise old sage who seemed to specialize in masterminding unthinkable schemes - made sure that the marriage never happened so the virgin - the kanya kumari - could fulfil her destiny and destroy the devil. One of the books he'd read also mentioned that according to lore, so angry was she when she was stood-up at the nuptial hour that she cursed everything that was part of the wedding preparations, including the rice that was never cooked and other grains. They assumed many forms and colours, thus coloring the sands of the sea in various shades.
Even the gods didn't get everything they desired, he mused. And he was just a mere mortal. He's always thought that if God did exist, he possessed the most perverse sense of humour. But it seemed now that he did play fair; suffering that stemmed from places and reasons that seemed completely arbitrary and absurd, like land mines on a field - they were not saved exclusively for the humankind. He wondered if that made him feel any better - and realised it didn't. There was never any point trying to analyse the many things life threw your way - what was that saying about lemons and lemonades?
That wasn't the chain of thought he'd wanted to latch on to - at least not in this temple. He was here to convey his gratitude - that was what temples were for. Isn't that what Maa used to say? Temples were not for prayers - but a place to think back on all your blessings and be grateful for them. He'd never had to sleep on an empty stomach, he still had a family to call his own, a roof over his head, a bed to sleep on, and the rare gift of having found the love of his life. He had no business cursing his fate or wasting time feeling morose. He had what most people spent their lifetimes praying for.
He recalled again the many things his mother had said about the goddess. That she blessed her devotees with a calm mind, free of rigidity and fears. He cheated then - and prayed for her blessings for all his loved ones before he finally got up and after one final look back, stepped out of the temple.
* * *
This holiday was spontaneous - and he wanted everything about it to be spontaneous. And having a bike at his disposal made that sense of thrill quadruple in his blood. The receptionist at the hotel had suggested the several tourist spots he could cover during the day, but he was here for at least 4 more days so he'd visit those later. For this day, however, he decided to ride to the neighbouring village of Kottaram.
He wanted to visit the village not because it was a popular tourist spot, but because it probably wasn't. It didn't even find mention in most of the travel guides he'd read; it was something he only spotted on a map of Tamil Nadu. Arnav knew nothing about the place except that it existed - but there wasn't a single place, especially in this country, without a legacy - and he wanted to discover the one behind it. He was sure he'd find its story, and he would listen to it.
It was about 4 kilometres from Kanyakumari, so he was there before noon. For lunch, he stopped by a local spot and enjoyed a plate of idli-s and a cup of the finest coffee he'd ever tasted. And so he had already discovered something special about the small village that only ever found mention on a state map. Making conversation with the locals proved to be rather easy, as much to his surprise, they followed English with ease. They looked at him incredulously when he mentioned he was there not for work, but as a tourist. Clearly, they weren't used to visitors who were there just for, well, funsies.
They talked about the various temples he could visit, but soon realised the city chap wasn't particularly interested in them. So they told him of the cathedrals. He smiled and promised to visit one. They requested he also visit the Ram temple - not for the shrine, but for the garden it was centred around. The old man's toothless grin melted his heart, and he acquiesced. Arnav asked if there were any libraries, and they zealously told him of the two-storeyed library near the government school, which was open to visitors after school hours. Arnav devoured two more cups of coffee before he said goodbye to his new friends and was on his bike towards the library.
He was right after all, there couldn't possibly be a place in India without a story, a heritage passed on through generations. The city was home to Marunthuvazh Malai, which translated to "the hill where medicine lives". According to legend, while carrying the mountain that hosted the live-saving Sanjeevani herb from the Himalayan ranges to Lanka, Lord Hanuman dropped a piece of earth on that spot, that was now known as the Marunthuvazh Malai. The hills hosted a wide range of unique medicinal herbs native to the town.
There was joy is in discovery, and even more joy in discovering that truth. There was something fascinating in everything one came across, as long as he or she was ready to put in a little effort to learn what that was. Arnav, after reading a little more about Kottaram and other towns that surrounded it, left to take a look at the hill of medicines'. There were plants and shrubs of numerous varieties, most of which he couldn't recognize as he didn't understand the scientific names of the herbs or the local language in which the labels were written. He trekked a few miles to the small ashram that was located somewhere in the middle of the hill. The ashram though tranquil didn't enthrall him as much as the view from its windows. He could view the entire scape of Kanyakumari below him, the greenery as well the vast body of water that cocooned the divine little town. The rhythm of the wind told him the stories he had come looking for.
He kept his promise to the locals who has so kindly befriended him, and paid a visit to the cathedral as well as the temple before heading back to the hotel. He had come to this village with a certainty that he'd find something special, and yet he was overwhelmed with the wealth of knowledge and beauty he was taking back with him. It had been a beautiful day; he had experienced the kind of balmy joy that one couldn't share with another even if he wished to. It was impossible to even comprehend it fully, let alone articulate it in words. So when he returned to his room after dinner, he wondered how he would tell Khushi about his day. It was subliminal, and he was almost certain this would be one of those things he couldn't share with Khushi even if he wished to. The memories he could share, but the beatitude was his to treasure.
He realized he hadn't switched on his phone after he'd turned it off before entering the cathedral. He turned it on and tried calling Khushi, but her phone was unreachable. He checked his messages then and saw there was one from Khushi, one which simply read Zero charge. Check your mail.". He wasn't carrying his laptop, and was forced to check his email on the phone. He switched on the night lamp for some extra lighting and read her email.
Dear Arnav,
Hope you had a great time today. Tried calling you this evening but your phone was switched off. Do tell me about your day; did you visit all the places Maa used to talk about? You're close to the oceans, I envy that.
The heat here is unbearable, and we've had no electricity since the past two days. That is, we didn't get the two hours of electricity we're supposed to get every morning. Even my portable chargers are out of charge now. My laptop has another few hours left though. I'm trying to get things up and moving as fast as I can, but as they say - man proposes, god disposes. It's like he's telling us about the importance of what we're doing here by making sure there are as many obstacles as possible. Why do we need power to generate power, Arnav? It's a cruel irony, and I am this close to losing faith in science.
Our test run had to be postponed and we couldn't start putting up our unit. And if that weren't enough, the locals here look at us as if we're some kind of evil encroachers here to exploit them. Don't they realise we're here to help them? My patience is wearing thin; I want things to move and they just won't.
My original plan was to return on Friday. That's not going to be possible. Will have to push it by at least 5 days, thanks to all the time we're losing. Our lab owner went and spoke to the local authorities today, hopefully we'll have power tomorrow.
Rant over.
I miss you.
And make sure you have enough fun for the both of us.
Love,
Khushi
- X -
Note: I visited Kanyakumari a really long time back, and though I don't remember much of it, I do know that no words can do justice to its beauty. I read and researched and hope that I've got my details right. However, if there are any flaws/errors, please feel free to point them out and I'll be more than happy to correct it.
Edited by vgedin - 10 years ago
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