Naturally, the post is a continuation to Day 11.1, even if it over 36 hours behind schedule. The reason for that is a number of things, such as catching up on some R&R (read rest and recuperation) meant that I couldn’t post yesterday. Of course, the events that took place “today” (in terms of post, not actual date) should serve as a more than reasonable alibi for lack of punctuality.
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I pick up the action where I left off in the last post. It’s about 1 AM on Thursday morning when the car pulls into the parking lot on the banks of River Pamba. We had set out at about 8 PM the same night, and had made a single pitstop around 11 PM at a roadside teashop, or thattukada as such a shop is known in Malayalam. Nothing like a cup of steaming hot tea on a chilly night, breathing in the refreshing mountain air whilst listening to the sounds of a minor waterfall somewhere in the unseen background.
The vehicle in question was a Chevrolet Travera. There was a CD player and I believe over 90 (yes, ninety) different devotional songs were covered on the trip. Most of the route was pretty much deserted, except for the occasional car headed to the same destination that the driver overtook without much effort.
Once we got to the basecamp, it started drizzling heavily/raining lightly (whichever way you want to look at it). It was also around 1 AM. This is rationale enough to call this post Day 11.2, because in my book, days are not separated by 24 hour periods, but my periods of slumber, of which I had gotten none on the way to Pampa. Oh well…
We rearranged some of the stuff in the bags. The shoulder bag, which I was to wear for most of the journey contained some food rations (read biscuits), a spare towel, our wallets and our mobile phones – a gentle reminder: dhotis are not equipped with pockets.
After a while, we got out, placed light towels on our heads, placed the irumudis on our respective heads and set of for a set of steep steps that led down to the banks of the river. After crossing the footbridge, some of the members of the troupe, including me, had to visit a rather foul-smelling communal latrine complex – they had about 4 of these near basecamp. All of them two-story buildings with about 40 latrines each. Each one of them almost uniformly filthy. But oh well, when you gotta go, you just gotta go.
After that, a quick dip in the River Pamba was required as per the handy pilgrim’s guidebook (Disclaimer: no such publication exists). Mind you, this was around 1 AM. But the water wasn’t really that chilly, say, compared to the Ganga, which I’ve had the chance to take a dip in. Even though I visited the Ganga in the middle of the day, it was much colder than the Pamba.
The temperature isn’t really the issue, it’s the not-going-too-deep-into-the-river-so-that-you-don’t-get-carried-away-by-the-current that’s the issue.
After drying off, began the seemingly long and arduous trek of about 4 km from the banks of the River Pamba to the temple of Sabarimala. Not all pilgrims choose to make this trek in the middle of the night. Some book accommodation at one of the several guest houses/pilgrim centers up the mountain, arrive at a more earthly hour, and make the climb. But since the temple is supposed to be visited as soon as possible after its opening (for reasons which are beyond me), we had to be there before 5 AM. Of course, one would argue that one could book a room at the top, trek in the daytime and wake up nice and early in time to catch the waking of the gods, but we didn’t follow that route probably because my dad and the others couldn’t be arsed to.
Of course, there isn’t just one path to reach the temple. There are multiple trails, of varying length and difficulty, and we simply chose the one that was most convenient, one of the two which started from the banks of the River Pamba. The one we took had handrails and some cemented paths too. The other was apparently more wild and untouched. (In retrospect, I wish we’d taken that one.)
The trek itself does not begin gently and build up to a steep incline. It’s pretty much steep from the outset. Although this trek is traditionally done barefooted, we conveniently chose to circumvent that rule, as we did many other rules in the run up to the trek. None of this seemed to bother any of the religious people accompanying me, so who was I to complain. Sandals are a good idea when the trek involved is a rough uphill climb.
My dad was telling me that the handrails and cemented path that I was walking on were a recent addition and that a few years ago, the trek would have been decidedly more challenging. Of course, he didn’t really say all of this in one go. My dad, like any busy modern-day executive, wasn’t a 100% in shape, and was huffing and puffing his way up the mountain as if his basic intention was to knock it over with his breath. It was a bit of a painful reminder about how out-of-shape he was. My uncle and my dad’s friend, who were also part of the group, weren’t really faring any better.
I, on the other hand, was having the time of my life. Even though it was getting pretty dark, and I couldn’t see much, the sound of the River Pamba echoing away as I rose higher and higher, accompanied with the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops occasionally falling on the canopy formed by trees overhead were all fantastically refreshing from my ancestral homes (both of which were within walking distance of National Highway 47).
This was the first time I was getting some proper exercise in several weeks, as my pharyngitis had put an end to any and every form of exercise. It’s curios how my usually hypochondriac mother ,who would lose her mind at the mention of even some light jogging in the local park over the past few weeks, mellowed in an instant at the mention of a holy pilgrimage. It confirmed my theory that religion can make people throw caution to the winds and abandon some well thought out theories in favor of religious fulfillment. Of course, it all means something for her, but me? I was just coming along for the fresh air and to stretch my limbs.
And stretch them I did – powering up the mountain faster than most of the other pilgrims. It wasn’t even coming in short bursts, and I’m sure I wouldn’t have had to make half the pitstops on the way up if it weren’t for the other members of the group. About 200m into the trek, at the first break of many that were required by my dad and the others, I shed the shirt, which was simply causing me to overheat. Despite the rain and mountain air, my body needed little excuse to perspire and this little mountain expedition was sufficient to get the sweat glands all worked up in a tizzie.
However, being the considerate fellow traveler, I waited up for them to catch up at each and every “level zone”. There were several of these zones spaced out throughout the trail, providing much needed places to rest for the not-so-fit pilgrims.
In fact, the pilgrims disinclined to climb the incline could even pay about 2,000 rupees and get themselves a dolly. A dolly is nothing but a chair supported by 2 long wooden logs which are carried by 4 strong men. Of course, the rate for the really-out-of-shape pilgrims goes up to 4,000 bucks. But the price being directly proportional to the weight of the pilgrim in question seems to a fairly reasonable pricing model, especially since it is so relevant to the service being rendered.
Oh, and I humorously pointed out to dad the numerous Cardiology Centers we encountered on our climb. These are again spaced out evenly across the trail for the weak-hearted (literally!).
The intermittent rain was of considerable concern to my father, who’s responsibility it was to reach me back home without a considerably worsened cold or cough. I’d picked up a light version before setting off, on Wednesday morning. Again, it was remarkable how my Mom, who would’ve normally been horrified at the prospect of any such expedition in my then-current condition didn’t raise any objections against a 4km uphill trek in possibly foul weather. As I said, religion does make people jumble up priorities…
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I’ll continue the rest of the narrative later, because as always, I’ve lost track of the word count while writing this up.