The previous day, on the afternoon of October 13, 2022, We had started our journey from Chennai Egmore Station by Kanyakumari Express (12633). After having dinner that night, I had a good sleep. From early morning, there seemed to be a lot of hustle and bustle all around. Tea vendors were calling out loudly, offering hot tea. When I opened my eyes, I saw that many passengers in the compartment had already gotten off the train. Some were packing their bags. The train was now standing at Nagercoil Junction Railway Station. In just another 20 minutes, we would reach Kanyakumari (CAPE), the southernmost railway station of India. Three days earlier, I had e-mailed the hotel, but hadn’t received any reply. The sky looked cloudy all around, yet sunlight was breaking through. As soon as the train arrived, everyone began heading toward their respective destinations. We got down slowly and took a few photographs of the surroundings. The hotel check-in time was 12 noon. There was still plenty of time in hand, and I couldn’t decide what to do. While thinking about it, I went towards the cloakroom. I deposited my trolley bag there, collected a token, and stepped out of the station. It was about 6:30 in the morning. If we went toward the sea, we would find people, food, and everything else there. An elderly auto driver approached us. His name was Justice. He looked trustworthy. I told him to take us near the sea. During our conversation, he asked which hotel we were staying at. Then he suggested that we should go to our pre-booked hotel and talk to the manager. Following his advice, we headed towards Sangam Hotel.
Vanakkam, You are lucky, your Room is Ready:
Actually, since most trains arrive in Kanyakumari Station in the morning, hotel owners usually keep the rooms ready for the tourists. After bidding farewell to Uncle Justice and completing some formalities at the hotel, we set out towards the seashore. The sea was quite close to our Sangam Hotel, so we decided to go on foot. Early in the morning, local drivers were bargaining with tourists for sightseeing trips. Since most of the visitors in Kanyakumari are Bengalis, many of the locals here can speak broken Bengali. By talking to them, we got a rough idea about the rates of the local tours.
Swami Vivekananda Rock Memorial:
There was a strict instruction from home — no boat rides at all. After all, I don’t know how to swim, and the trip involved crossing the sea, that too the Indian Ocean! So, the plan was to take a few pictures of the Vivekananda Rock Memorial from a distance and return. Standing at the jetty, the two of us watched men and women, the elderly, and even people carrying babies — all boarding the boats wearing life jackets. We thought, “What wrong would it be if we went too?” So, after buying the tickets and waiting for a long time, we finally boarded the steamer. In a short while, we reached the Vivekananda Rock Memorial. From the speakers, a soft Tamil bhajan was playing in the background. A little ahead, we collected a token and kept our shoes in the designated place. By around 8 a.m., the sun was already high in the sky, yet the sea breeze made the heat quite bearable. Above us stretched the clear autumn-blue sky, and below lay the vast blue expanse of the ocean. In front of us stood the massive statue of the poet Thiruvalluvar, the Triveni Sangam, and in the distance, the town of Kanyakumari and the lighthouse were clearly visible. Behind us rose the temple built in memory of Swami Vivekananda — simply magnificent. It takes about an hour to explore the entire place. According to legend, about a thousand years before Vivekananda, Goddess Kanyakumari is said to have stood here on one leg, meditating in the hope of marrying Lord Shiva. Whether the marriage ever took place is unknown, but her footprints are believed to remain on this rock. Around these footprints, a small temple has been built. However, it is separate from the main Kanyakumari Devi Temple located on the mainland. By around 10:30 a.m., we returned to the station, collected our trolley bags, and went back to the hotel. When we informed the elderly man sitting at the reception about our plan, he said, “All right, the driver will be here within half an hour.” We quickly got ready and went down to the restaurant on the ground floor. After having a large dosa, along with puri-sabzi, and tea, we set out in the car to continue our journey.
Lunch at Hotel Chitra:
A clean and well-maintained hotel environment. The meal was served on banana leaves. Four kinds of pickles were already placed on the dining table. First came warm water for washing hands. Then, one after another, came rice, dal, four types of vegetables, sambar, papad, chutney, raita, and so on. After finishing the delicious meal to our heart’s content, we started for the famous Poovar backwaters. Then, Deepu led us along a gentle hilly path through a coconut plantation to the bank of a river.
Poovar Back-water:
We went with Deepu to a boating kiosk. During a bit of casual conversation, when I looked at the kiosk manager, only one thought kept circling in my head — “Why have you killed Amarendra Baahubali?” And that very manager was trying to assure me, saying, “Don’t worry, Sir. I won’t overcharge you.” Meanwhile, I couldn’t stop laughing. Later, when Deepu heard and explained what had happened. Then the manager burst into laughter. As a bonus, we even got an additional discount of ₹500. We told Deepu, “Why stay alone? Come with us.” He agreed. So the four of us — Deepu, the two of us, and the boatman — started our journey through the canals inside the mangrove forest. A little ahead, we came across a coconut seller ferrying tender coconuts on a boat. All four of us drank coconuts and resumed our journey. One after another, we passed Club Mahindra Resort and then reached a floating restaurant known for its variety of fish dishes. Since we were heading to a temple next, we decided not to eat anything. Soon, we arrived at the river mouth where it met the sea. The backwater had been calm until now, but at the estuary, large sea waves were visible. Although we were wearing life jackets, a sense of fear crept into our hearts. When I mentioned it to the boatman, he reassured us that there was a natural sandbar in the middle, so the waves wouldn’t harm our boat. I had read about such sandbars before, but today I finally understood what a parallel coastal sand bar actually looks like. Anyway, passing by a rock where a statue of the Virgin Mary holding the reclining infant Jesus stood, we moved toward the Golden Sand Beach. On the way, we saw a half-submerged rock — at first glance, it looked like an elephant standing in the water. The inner side of Golden Beach was calm, but on the seaward side, large waves were crashing against the shore. The roaring sound made it clear that no one would dare to swim there. After a brief photo session, we returned from the spot.
Kovalam Beach:
When we reached Kovalam Beach, it was low tide. Because of the muddy shore, we couldn’t step into the water. Overhead stretched the clear blue sky; all around, a coastline lined with rows of coconut trees; beneath our feet, a carpet of green grass; and in front of us, the vast Arabian Sea stretching to the horizon — its beauty is beyond words. Adding to the scene were a few tall edged wooden boats belonging to the local fishermen, looking just like figures painted on an artist’s canvas. There is also a beautiful resort here owned by actor Mithun Chakraborty. After capturing a few memories with our camera, we set out for our next destination.
Sri Padmanav Swami Temple:
We reached the northern main gate, or gopuram, of the temple around 4 p.m. Deepu parked the car. I put on a dhoti and wrapped an uttariya around my shoulders. My wife was already wearing a saree, so there was no issue. Among the ancient temples of India, the Padmanabhaswamy Temple is one of the most famous — and hence the rules are quite strict. Watches, mobile phones, wallets, shoes, belts, and intoxicating items like betel, bidi, or gutkha are all strictly prohibited. There’s also a dress code for women. In the morning, I had seen a lady taking selfies at Vivekananda Rock wearing a top and jeans; now I saw her draped in a white saree over those jeans, heading toward the temple for darshan. Such strict regulations are indeed necessary; otherwise, one day these temples will turn into amusement parks. Anyway, after passing through multiple layers of tight security, we entered the temple premises. It was an enormous temple complex — it felt like an entire city inside. The temple had its own bank, post office, police station, court, treasury, staff quarters — everything! After quite a bit of searching, we found the way to proceed. There were three types of darshan arrangements. A woman sat at a computer counter, issuing tickets in exchange for money. Beside her, two plates were neatly arranged with lotus flowers and tulsi garlands. I said to my wife, “The flowers look so fresh and beautiful.” Meanwhile, she was talking to that lady, while I, instead of listening, was taking in the surroundings with my eyes. Massive corridors stretched around us, lined on both sides with tall pillars. The lion faces carved at the top of those pillars resembled the ones seen in the temples of Puri’s Jagannath and Rameswaram. But this place felt much more open and airy. The inner courtyard looked almost like a fairground. Here and there stood a few small tiled houses. A concrete path ran across the sandy ground toward the sanctum, covered with a tiled roof. Wooden railings bordered both sides of the path. After walking some distance, we turned right toward the main temple.
But a question arises — how is it that the richest God in the world resides beneath a simple clay-tiled roof? Perhaps He Himself is the true source of all inspiration. As I pondered that thought, a quiet smile played on my lips. Then we came upon a stone wall. Entering the dark garbhagriha (sanctum sanctorum) through a small doorway, we found a crowd of people pressing together, each hoping to catch a fleeting glimpse of the deity. The dim light from oil lamps on the walls, the smoky air, and the slippery stone floor together created a somewhat perilous atmosphere. Out of fear and awe, we stood almost frozen. A policeman on duty said something to us, but we couldn’t quite understand. Someone above waved a hand, signaling — though we weren’t sure if the gesture was meant for us. The policeman then spoke in half Hindi, half English: “Go forward, keep to the right wall. The priest is calling you.” We couldn’t imagine why we were being called. As we moved ahead, one by one, the guards and priests on duty kept gesturing to us to go further forward. Finally, climbing a wooden staircase, both of us almost reached the sanctum’s inner platform. The chief priest took the two lotus flowers and tulsi leaves from our offering plate and touched them to the feet of the deity. Only then did we realize what had happened — the lotus flowers we carried in our plate were actually symbols of a VIP Entry Pass, which had earned us such special access amid that enormous crowd.
Lord Sri Vishnu Idol Darshan:
Here, Lord Vishnu resides in His reclining posture (Anantashayana). At the priest’s instruction, I wrapped my upper cloth around my waist. In front of us stood three dimly lit chambers. In the first, we saw the ever-smiling face of Lord Vishnu, with the hood of the serpent Ananta raised above Him. In the second chamber, from His navel rose a lotus on which Lord Brahma was seated, and below His hand rested a Shiva Lingam. In the final chamber were the feet of Vishnu. As the priest illuminated the deity with the lamp in his hand, the gems and jewels adorning the idol sparkled brilliantly. We stood there, palms folded, awestruck — especially by the eyes of Ananta, the serpent. It felt as if those eyes might swallow us at any moment. I recalled what I had once read in college: “Out of fear, the idea of God was born.” Today, I witnessed that truth with my own eyes. The black granite idol (kasthipathar) measured about 15 to 20 feet in length and at least 7 feet in height. Three or four priests stood above the sanctum. Seeing their gentle smiles, I loosened my pocket a little. In return, they touched a silver crown to our heads and blessed us both. While descending the wooden staircase on the opposite side, I noticed many people standing below — the Free Entry line had already turned away much earlier. There was also a Paid Line, but from there, it was quite difficult to get a proper view of the deity. Before leaving, we collected large-sized laddus and sealed cans of prasadam to take home.
Return to Kanyakumari:
Around 6 p.m., we started from Thiruvananthapuram toward Kanyakumari. On the way back, our car passed in front of the Sabarimala Temple, but since we were short on time, we decided to skip visiting it on this trip. After crossing the Kerala–Tamil Nadu border, we stopped for tea and later for dinner. By the time we returned to the hotel, it was almost 9:30 at night. During our journey, the hotel manager called twice to check on us. We always prefer renting a car directly through the hotel rather than taking one from the local stand — it ensures there’s a local custodian responsible for our safety and comfort throughout the trip.
Kanyakumari Mata Temple:
The next morning, the two of us went for a walk to visit the temple of Goddess Kanyakumari. It is believed that since her marriage to Lord Shiva never took place, the Goddess remains angry. Therefore, men are required to remove their shirts before entering the temple. Oh Lord Shiva — we bow our heads in shame for your sake! Inside, the worship ceremony was in progress. The moment we stepped in, it was clear from the stone pillars that the sanctum was truly ancient, though the outer walls had been renovated with bricks. In exchange for a modest offering, the priest blessed us wholeheartedly. On our way back, we bought shankha (conch bangles) and sindoor (vermilion) for the well-being of all our family members.
Tsunami Memorial Park:
We walked a short distance to the Triveni Ghat, where the Bay of Bengal, the Indian Ocean, and the Arabian Sea meet. After that, we reached Tsunami Park, which is built right alongside the outer wall of the Kanyakumari Mata Temple. The park was neat and well-maintained, but exhausted by the heat and sunlight, we returned to the hotel around 9:30 a.m. Today, after breakfast, we had to go straight to our room to pack our bags. Since our return train was scheduled for the evening, there was no time to waste.
Wax Museum:
As I had informed earlier, Uncle Justice arrived around eleven o’clock. Today, our plan was to visit the Vottakottai Fort, the Bharat Mata Temple, and the Wax Museum. After buying tickets for ₹200 each, we entered the museum and saw oddly shaped wax figures — puffed up, almost like broiler chickens. There were also some 3D wallpapers, similar to the graffiti you can see along the streets in many Indian cities. Anyway, next we headed to see the Vattakottai Fort.
Vattakottai Fort (Circular Fort):
Vattakottai Fort is located about 6 km from Kanyakumari town. We advanced along a narrow, broken road, passing through small Tamil villages. Unlike the massive forts of Rajasthan or Madhya Pradesh, this fort is not very large. Although the word “Vattakottai” means circular, the fort’s shape is rectangular, with circular bastions at the corners. In 1741, the Dutch forces were defeated by the Travancore king Marthanda Varma at the Battle of Colachel. Later, the Dutch naval officer Eustachius De Lannoy joined the Travancore army and assisted in the construction of this fort. From here, both the Bay of Bengal and the Arabian Sea are visible. Yesterday, we visited the Padmanabhapuram Palace in Nagercoil, from where this fort was once administered. At that time, the fort played an important role in defending the coastline along the Bay of Bengal. Uncle Justice gave us a guided tour of the fort, showing us around and telling us which movies had been shot here. While drinking coconut water, we also learned why he was called “Justice.” After spending about an hour exploring, we set off to visit the Bharat Mata Temple.
Bharat Mata Temple:
Behind a beautifully landscaped garden stands a fairly large temple. Separate parking facilities are available. After purchasing the entry tickets, we went inside. In front of us was a full-bodied statue of the five-faced Hanuman, approximately 25 feet tall even if its height seemed slightly reduced. Incidentally, this is not a religious temple but rather a museum related to Hindu nationalism. Each room is adorned with large oil paintings depicting scenes from the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, along with English explanations. In addition, there are portraits of various Indian thinkers, accompanied by insights into their philosophies and sayings. Finally, we reached the main hall on the second floor. In front of us stood a massive statue of Bharat Mata, with a map of undivided India behind her and the Indian flag in her hand. Such a grand photo frame was installed in the Anadi Bhavan of the Sarada Shishu Tirtha, Cooch Behar. Standing before it, the then head teacher, Chanchal Dadamani, would tell the students, “Janani janmabhoomishcha swargadapi gariyasi” — Mother and motherland are greater than heaven itself.
Return to Madurai:
Finally, it was time to say goodbye. After settling our dues at Sangam Hotel, we returned to our room. After a short while, we freshened up and went to eat. The meal was a traditional Tamil thali: rice, two roti, an idli, a small portion of upma, along with three to four kinds of vegetables, sambar, papad, coconut chutney, pickles, and raita — in short, absolutely delightful. After the meal and some rest, we reached the station. We were to board train number 12634, the Kanyakumari Express, which would take us to Madurai by 10 p.m. Tonight we will stay in Madurai, after visiting the Meenakshi Amman Temple the next day, and then head to Chennai by the afternoon.
Around 8:30 this morning, we arrived at Rameswaram station (RMM). From Sangeet Palace Hotel, we were provided with a car, and from morning till noon we visited the Ekantheeswar Shiva Temple, Pamban Rail Bridge, Banganga or Villundi Tirtham, Dr. Kalam’s house and memorial, Vibhishana Tirtham, Dhanushkodi Ghost Town, Arichnamalai, and finally the Gandhamadana Hill. Our driver for the day was Arjun Pandya. Anyway, after completing our sightseeing and having lunch, we returned to our hotel The Sangeeth Palace around 3 p.m. The main road in front of our hotel goes straight toward the temple. The manager told me it’s just about a four-minute walk, so we could easily go on foot. In the evening, the two of us walked to Rameswaram’s largest and holiest temple — the Sri Arulmigu Ramanathaswamy Temple, also known as the Rameswaram Shiva Temple. According to legend, Lord Rama, an incarnation of Vishnu, killed Ravana — a great devotee of Lord Shiva — in order to rescue Sita from Lanka. As the scriptures say, since Ravana was a Brahmin, Rama built this temple to atone for the sin of killing a Brahmin (Brahmahatya). The present structure of the temple was gradually developed and expanded over several centuries. The earliest shrine is believed to have been built by the Pandya dynasty in the 12th century CE. Later, rulers of the Jaffna Kingdom (Sri Lanka), the Nayaks of Madurai, and the Sethupathi rulers of Ramanathapuram contributed extensively to its architecture and wealth. The temple is dedicated to Lord Shiva and is one of the twelve Jyotirlinga temples, which are considered the most holy abodes of Shiva.
We decided that today we would only walk around the outer premises of the temple. Under the full moon’s light, the gopurams (temple towers) looked beautiful. From inside the temple, we could hear the soft sound of devotional songs being sung over the loudspeaker. We were standing near the western gate of the temple. When we asked a local person for directions, he pointed toward the road leading to the seaside ghat. We walked past the northern gate and reached the front of the eastern gate. From there, we took a narrow lane on the left. Passing a few old tiled houses, we finally reached the seashore. In the darkness ahead, we could hear the roaring of the sea. A little further on, we saw three large commemorative gates standing in a row. This place is known as Agni Theertham. According to tradition, devotees take a holy bath at this ghat and, wearing their wet clothes, enter the temple to offer prayers. It is believed that it was here that Mata Sita performed the last rites of her father-in-law, King Dasharatha. Another belief says that if someone performs the shraddha ceremony (ritual for ancestors) here, the souls of their forefathers are liberated from the cycle of birth and death and attain moksha. Since it was low tide, the sea had receded quite far. We sat on a cement bench, enjoying the beauty of the sea under the moonlight. But unfortunately, our peace didn’t last long — the strong stench coming from all around made us feel sick. Reluctantly, we got up and left the place. After walking a while, we came back to the main road, this time heading toward the left. A short distance ahead stood another gopuram — this was the southern tower or the southern entrance of the temple. This area had many mid-range hotels, so it was quite crowded with pilgrims. Walking further along the outer road that runs beside the temple’s massive walls, we saw a few food stalls. The vendors were shouting loudly to attract customers. Even at that hour, many people were still visiting the shrine. Finally, around 8:30 p.m., we returned to our hotel.
NEXT DAY MORNING, 11 OCT '2022.
After taking our bath the next morning, around 10 a.m., we set out for the Ramanathaswamy Temple to offer our prayers. But since the sun was blazing fiercely during the day, we decided not to walk — instead, we hired an auto-rickshaw to get there. At our previous hotel, we had met a group of foreign tourists from Germany; they too were on their way to the temple, dressed traditionally in dhoti and uttariya (Pattuli), walking barefoot for the darshan. When our eyes met, they greeted us with “Hare!”, and we waved back with “Radhe, Radhe.” The temple is practically located in the middle of the bustling market. Buses, trucks, autos, and taxis all pass in front of the western entrance gate. We stopped at a shop on the left side of the road, which offered locker facilities for keeping mobile phones and cameras. From there, we bought two puja baskets (puja dalis). The shop was managed by an elderly woman and her son. Like most Tamil women, she too had a garland of jasmine flowers tucked into her hair. By this time, the group of foreign tourists had reached near the temple gate. Watching them, I suddenly felt that it would be nice to go inside the temple wearing a dhoti myself. No sooner thought than done — I asked, “Amma, what is the price of a dhoti?” After a bit of bargaining, I bought a dhoti for ₹200 and an uttariya (Pattuli) for ₹50. After purchasing the offerings and the clothes, the woman’s son helped me wear the dhoti and uttariya properly — and I was all set. We left our shoes and wallet in the locker, carefully crossed the road, and entered the temple premises. Having previously visited several ancient temples of South India, I acted as my wife’s guide for this trip — deciding in advance what we would see and what we could skip. Temples in South India, I always feel, are a bit like those childhood maze toys, where you had to roll a small ball through winding paths to reach the central chamber. Indeed, without knowing the right path, one can easily get lost in this labyrinthine structure. The corridors (Prakarams) of this temple are said to be the longest in the world, built with perfect geometric precision — a true architectural marvel. The corridors have over 1,200 intricately carved pillars, each about 30 feet high. The gopurams (towers) are beautifully ornamented and typical of Dravidian architecture. The temple also houses 22 holy wells (theerthams) inside its premises, each believed to have distinct healing and spiritual properties. Devotees traditionally bathe in all 22 before worship.
Asking a few pilgrims for directions, we gradually passed through several corridors and finally reached the main gate. Crossing the huge wooden door, we entered inside. The door was enormous — at least 20 to 25 feet high and about 12 to 14 feet wide — almost like the main gate of a fortress. Large iron spikes were studded into the wood. Just after entering, on the left side, stood an elephant with its mahout. For a small offering, the elephant raised its trunk and blessed the devotees. A little further ahead, our eyes fell upon a massive statue of Nandi, the sacred bull of Lord Shiva. We walked around from behind Nandi and came to stand in front of it. The statue of Nandi was about 10 to 12 feet high, 14 to 15 feet long, and 8 to 10 feet wide. In the past 15 to 20 years, I have visited many temples across India, but I have never seen such a large, gleaming white Nandi before. Nandi’s gaze was fixed straight ahead — that, I knew, must be the direction where Lord Shiva resides. Touching Nandi’s feet reverently, we began walking along the path in front of his head. Gradually, we started to see a growing crowd of people. Crossing yet another large wooden door that looked like the gate of a fortress, we turned right and noticed the queue for darshan. On a counter nearby, a signboard read “VIP Darshan.” Leaving my wife in line, I went to buy the tickets. The board also listed the prices of different rituals and offerings. One person asked me whether I wanted to perform a Jalabhishek (water offering) to the deity, but after hearing the price, we decided to drop it. Then we stood in line, waiting for our turn for the sacred darshan. As we moved a little further and glanced to our left, our eyes widened in astonishment. What was this wondrous sight before us! The faint fragrance of incense filled the air, and a misty atmosphere hung around, created by the curling smoke. Through the high walls and their lattice-like openings, shafts of sunlight streamed in at an angle, illuminating a breathtakingly beautiful inner shrine adorned with exquisite carvings. The temple, made of dark brownish stone, was a marvel of craftsmanship — from the sculpted pillars to the intricately designed beams — I couldn’t decide what to admire first. From the cornices of the shrine hung stone chains, and small oil lamps flickered gently upon them. The scene before me reminded me of the sacred city of Alamut as shown in the movie Prince of Persia. A few days earlier, when I had looked at the Ramanathswamy Temple through Google Maps in satellite view, it had seemed to me that the main shrine was shaped like a large rectangular block — somewhat like a cold storage building. Now I finally understood why. The central sanctum, before which we were standing, is enclosed within massive fort-like walls and surrounded by labyrinthine corridors, with even a roof constructed overhead to shield it completely. It is said that this design was intended to protect the temple from foreign invasions and Muslim attacks in ancient times.
Out of curiosity, I asked a police officer on duty whether this was the VIP line. He took us out of the queue and led us farther ahead. The more we advanced, the more we were overwhelmed by the intricate artistry all around us. Thanks to the officer’s help, we had bypassed a large crowd and moved considerably forward. The VIP line wasn’t very crowded. The base of the inner shrine stood about waist-high from the floor. A wooden ramp provided access to it, and steel barricades and thick ropes were set up to guide the devotees. Because of the surrounding walls and the massive roof overhead, the inner sanctum has remained remarkably intact through the ages. Peeking inside, I noticed a small opening in the ceiling through which the spire of the sanctum slightly protruded outward. We stood there, mesmerized, gazing at the temple’s divine beauty and wondering what more mysteries lay within. On the other side of the shrine, behind iron barricades, countless devotees waited patiently for a single glimpse of the deity. In front of us stood a magnificent silver door decorated with fine patterns, and behind it resided the Ramanathaswamy Shiva Lingam — ever radiant and eternal. The black granite Lingam, adorned with sandalwood paste and flowers, shimmered in the light of the oil lamps. The golden Tripundra (three horizontal lines) on its surface gleamed brilliantly, reflecting the glow of the sacred flame. From about ten to twelve feet away, we offered our prayers with folded hands. A stout, bald-headed priest came forward holding a lamp and brought it before us. We cupped our palms to take the warmth of the sacred flame and touched it to our foreheads in reverence. The priest then took the flowers from our puja thali and offered them to the deity. In return, he handed us some blessed flowers (prasad) from the altar. After offering a small donation, the priest gave us some holy ash (vibhuti) from the plate. We immediately applied the ash to our foreheads. At that moment, the on-duty police officer standing beside us tapped his own forehead and said half-jokingly, “Ise ghar le jaana tha, kya kar diya!” (You should have taken that home—what have you done!). His words barely registered in our ears, and we paid little attention. With our foreheads smeared in sacred ash, we stepped out of the main sanctum. On our way back, we saw that same group of foreign tourists—four of them—playfully competing with one another as they bathed in the holy well. It is believed that bathing here washes away the sins of countless lifetimes. The temple attendants (sevayats) draw water from the well for devotees, performing this ritual of purification for a fixed fee. After that, we took one last slow walk through the corridors, taking in their beauty once more, and finally stepped outside the temple.
After returning to the hotel from the temple and taking some rest, we had lunch and then went to visit a temple called Lakshmana Theertham, which was within walking distance. After that, we went to Rama Theertham. We captured those memorable moments in our camera. Now it was time for us to return to Chennai. Bidding farewell to everyone at the hotel, we headed to the station, carrying with us a heart full of memories and affection. Under the full moon’s light, our train slowly crossed the century-old Pamban Rail Bridge, while thousands of fishing boats glittered across the sea, their lamps shimmering like stars upon the water. The entire coastline glowed in that magical radiance. Truly, we felt blessed to have been born in this holy Indian subcontinent.