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.
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