11:00 am.... the sun was beating down mercilessly as we stepped out of the car- the gopuram of the Ranganathaswamy Temple in the distance. It was a little walk to the temple and a motley mix of sights greeted us- a Cricket match was underway on one side, complete with Kannada audio commentary and a makeshift pavilion, a couple of horses lazed around waiting for the next customer to take a joyride... and a row of shanty shops lined the road on both sides, selling trinkets of every kind.
I was brusquely interrupted by someone who held out...what looked like a business card. Our first response to any intrusion is one of resistance- "No! no! I don't need anything!" I shouted and walked away to join my family a little distance away.
"I am a tourist guide, recognised by the Govt!" he announced. His card had a list of places with an amount penned against each item. "These are for the foreign tourist. I can do it cheaper for you!" I brushed him aside.....but after a little discussion, we somehow decided to engage his services, just to make the temple visit a little more interesting. Interesting.. it was!
As we walked with our guide and headed towards the gopuram, he began.... articulating each word with inordinate care. "This is...." and paused a bit and continued.... "the shree".. and waited. As we met his face with bated breath....he slowly pronounced.. "renga" another delicate pause.... followed by the word "natha". Uncomfortable silence reined once more...while he slowly intoned "swamy"... and finally trailed off with the word "temple"! It took us a while to string all these words together to form the full sentence.... "This is the shree Ranganatha swamy Temple". Speaking with the same clarity, he began his second sentence. "The name of town is" and paused. "Shree..." long pause.. "renga".. pause.. and mercifully ended with "patna".
By the time he had completed these two sentences, we had deposited all our footwear, scolded the children for touching the underside of the chappal, collected the token, gone past the gopuram and now stood inside the premises. "Please come to this side... madam, come this way...Saar, you also!" he gestured, while a whole lot of devotees gaped at us with curiosity.
Standing beside an ancient well in the temple compound, he seemed visibly pleased with all the attention that we gave him. He delicately touched his thumb with his forefinger in a "chin mudra", as if explaining an intricate point and continued his discourse.... "This is"...and even as we glanced at each other in horror, continued in the same leisurely pace.. "the shree" and once more "renga"... "natha"... "swamy"... "temple"! "The name of town ij"... and this time, we could fill in the words for him.. "shree".. "renga"... "patna".. which pleased him to no end!
You've just driven for over 3 hours....the glare of the dazzling midday sun compels you to squint your eyes, knit your brow and gives you a throbbing headache, you shuffle your feet so that the granite floor virtually on fire, doesn't drill holes into your sole... disgruntled children hang around you with vengeance in their eyes.... for having spoilt their holiday with a trip to a temple.... the last thing you want is a sermon...pronounced at a pace.. which would have made Geoff Boycott look like a T-20 specialist!! To top it, the repetition was killing! We silently wondered if there was any exit strategy at all... or would we all simply age...beaten down by time and boredom...by the time our guide finished his spiel!!?
We decided to be pro-active and thought an "interactive session" may just save our day. "When was this temple built? Is it very old? Who built this temple?" we asked randomly. It helped! "Tirumala Raya of the Ganga dynasty built this temple 1200 years ago," he said in one flow. While we frantically searched for the next set of questions, the guide fell back to his didactic ways.. "You see there"....and pointed to the sculptures ahead... "Those are the 10 incarnations"... "of Lord".... "Vishnu". "Matsya".... "Kurma".... "Varaha".... he enunciated... while our minds had switched off. I had half a mind to cut him short, "Dude! Do we look like Martians to you? We are not even NRIs. We've read our Amar Chitra Kathas since we were this small..from cover to cover.. and even backwards! How dare you insult our basic intelligence by starting from the alphabet!?"
But ours is not to question why... ours is but to do and die!
His speech soon gathered speed and content. It was difficult to make much headway through his thick accent. We picked up bits and pieces. He threw in "Krishna Deva Raya" and "Duke of Wellington" in the same sentence... and brought in "Tipu Sultan" and "Hyder Ali" too. Evidently, they all had some role to play with the town and the temple. From History, he drifted off to Religion and explained... "GOD is Generator-Operator-Destroyer.. G-O-D".. pleased as punch with his explanation of the acronymn... and how Vishnu, the "Operator" resided in this temple. Stopping by the sannidhi of Garuda, he proclaimed dramatically..."This is Eagle, Lord Vishnu's car!" It felt awkward to be in file with other devotees who received the traditional "teertham" from the priest and have us singled out for this special explanation!
Soon, we joined the queue to the sanctum. People waited patiently. The guide prodded us to break the single file, create a parallel path and surge ahead in the line. We felt delicate to try such antics. "Saar, don't worry! This is India... Indian style..! No US style here!" Before we could protest that we were Indian.. but could still afford to follow basic rules, he had uprooted an entire side of the railing... and asked us to step aside. Clueless, we followed him. We went through a maze of corridors... at the end of which...he wanted us to jump fence once more and join the crowd just before the sanctum entrance. It was terribly embarrassing to avoid eyes which looked at us with obvious contempt. "It's ok! It's ok saar!" the guide egged us sheepishly.
We were caught on the horns of a dilemma. There was no way to backtrack. Had someone in the crowd picked up a quarrel for breaking the line, we would have had no argument in our favour. It didn't also look as if the guide would come to our defence either.. as he receded to the background. We took a spot decision...threw caution and self-respect to the winds.. and muscled our way through... and joined the frenetic chorus of "Govinda.. Go.....vinda!!"
Lord Vishnu..as Ranganatha... in all his glory... rested on Adi Sesha. The place, the precincts of the temple, the irritation, the queue offenders that we were.. and even the guide...everything was forgotten.. though.. for a split second.
"Come this way and look at His feet. There you see Goddess Cauvery....!" the guide's words jolted us...out of our reverie.
It was fine, the purpose of the visit had been served.
Soon, we stood once more in the temple compound on our way out. "I hope you liked it" the guide enquired politely. "If you plan to go to the Nimishamba Temple and club it with Tipu's Palace and Gol-Gumbaz, let me know. I will come with you... and give you a good price for the entire package! For foreign tourists.. I normally charge...." We politely declined the offer.
"Please don't tell people to cut the line from the next time. It is not right. We would have earned more punya had we stood in the queue!" I tried to clear my conscience.
"Saar! Saar! What saar!? This is India saar! Indian style only here! No US....."
It was simply impossible.
Our spot decision, despite the reluctance, made us party to the crime. It looked as if "Indian style" meant following rules...... essentially rules of convenience! It would provide a fitting explanation for the ugly "spot fixing and betting" saga which unfolded later that week. We are like that only!
You must visit the Ranganathaswamy Temple. You must engage the services of our guide. You must repeat as we do- everyday.... with our fingers joined in a "chin-mudra":
"Welcome to the shree-----renga-----natha-----swamy-----temple!"
"The name of town ij-----shree----renga-----patna!!"
I was brusquely interrupted by someone who held out...what looked like a business card. Our first response to any intrusion is one of resistance- "No! no! I don't need anything!" I shouted and walked away to join my family a little distance away.
"I am a tourist guide, recognised by the Govt!" he announced. His card had a list of places with an amount penned against each item. "These are for the foreign tourist. I can do it cheaper for you!" I brushed him aside.....but after a little discussion, we somehow decided to engage his services, just to make the temple visit a little more interesting. Interesting.. it was!
As we walked with our guide and headed towards the gopuram, he began.... articulating each word with inordinate care. "This is...." and paused a bit and continued.... "the shree".. and waited. As we met his face with bated breath....he slowly pronounced.. "renga" another delicate pause.... followed by the word "natha". Uncomfortable silence reined once more...while he slowly intoned "swamy"... and finally trailed off with the word "temple"! It took us a while to string all these words together to form the full sentence.... "This is the shree Ranganatha swamy Temple". Speaking with the same clarity, he began his second sentence. "The name of town is" and paused. "Shree..." long pause.. "renga".. pause.. and mercifully ended with "patna".
By the time he had completed these two sentences, we had deposited all our footwear, scolded the children for touching the underside of the chappal, collected the token, gone past the gopuram and now stood inside the premises. "Please come to this side... madam, come this way...Saar, you also!" he gestured, while a whole lot of devotees gaped at us with curiosity.
Standing beside an ancient well in the temple compound, he seemed visibly pleased with all the attention that we gave him. He delicately touched his thumb with his forefinger in a "chin mudra", as if explaining an intricate point and continued his discourse.... "This is"...and even as we glanced at each other in horror, continued in the same leisurely pace.. "the shree" and once more "renga"... "natha"... "swamy"... "temple"! "The name of town ij"... and this time, we could fill in the words for him.. "shree".. "renga"... "patna".. which pleased him to no end!
You've just driven for over 3 hours....the glare of the dazzling midday sun compels you to squint your eyes, knit your brow and gives you a throbbing headache, you shuffle your feet so that the granite floor virtually on fire, doesn't drill holes into your sole... disgruntled children hang around you with vengeance in their eyes.... for having spoilt their holiday with a trip to a temple.... the last thing you want is a sermon...pronounced at a pace.. which would have made Geoff Boycott look like a T-20 specialist!! To top it, the repetition was killing! We silently wondered if there was any exit strategy at all... or would we all simply age...beaten down by time and boredom...by the time our guide finished his spiel!!?
We decided to be pro-active and thought an "interactive session" may just save our day. "When was this temple built? Is it very old? Who built this temple?" we asked randomly. It helped! "Tirumala Raya of the Ganga dynasty built this temple 1200 years ago," he said in one flow. While we frantically searched for the next set of questions, the guide fell back to his didactic ways.. "You see there"....and pointed to the sculptures ahead... "Those are the 10 incarnations"... "of Lord".... "Vishnu". "Matsya".... "Kurma".... "Varaha".... he enunciated... while our minds had switched off. I had half a mind to cut him short, "Dude! Do we look like Martians to you? We are not even NRIs. We've read our Amar Chitra Kathas since we were this small..from cover to cover.. and even backwards! How dare you insult our basic intelligence by starting from the alphabet!?"
But ours is not to question why... ours is but to do and die!
His speech soon gathered speed and content. It was difficult to make much headway through his thick accent. We picked up bits and pieces. He threw in "Krishna Deva Raya" and "Duke of Wellington" in the same sentence... and brought in "Tipu Sultan" and "Hyder Ali" too. Evidently, they all had some role to play with the town and the temple. From History, he drifted off to Religion and explained... "GOD is Generator-Operator-Destroyer.. G-O-D".. pleased as punch with his explanation of the acronymn... and how Vishnu, the "Operator" resided in this temple. Stopping by the sannidhi of Garuda, he proclaimed dramatically..."This is Eagle, Lord Vishnu's car!" It felt awkward to be in file with other devotees who received the traditional "teertham" from the priest and have us singled out for this special explanation!
Soon, we joined the queue to the sanctum. People waited patiently. The guide prodded us to break the single file, create a parallel path and surge ahead in the line. We felt delicate to try such antics. "Saar, don't worry! This is India... Indian style..! No US style here!" Before we could protest that we were Indian.. but could still afford to follow basic rules, he had uprooted an entire side of the railing... and asked us to step aside. Clueless, we followed him. We went through a maze of corridors... at the end of which...he wanted us to jump fence once more and join the crowd just before the sanctum entrance. It was terribly embarrassing to avoid eyes which looked at us with obvious contempt. "It's ok! It's ok saar!" the guide egged us sheepishly.
We were caught on the horns of a dilemma. There was no way to backtrack. Had someone in the crowd picked up a quarrel for breaking the line, we would have had no argument in our favour. It didn't also look as if the guide would come to our defence either.. as he receded to the background. We took a spot decision...threw caution and self-respect to the winds.. and muscled our way through... and joined the frenetic chorus of "Govinda.. Go.....vinda!!"
Lord Vishnu..as Ranganatha... in all his glory... rested on Adi Sesha. The place, the precincts of the temple, the irritation, the queue offenders that we were.. and even the guide...everything was forgotten.. though.. for a split second.
"Come this way and look at His feet. There you see Goddess Cauvery....!" the guide's words jolted us...out of our reverie.
It was fine, the purpose of the visit had been served.
Soon, we stood once more in the temple compound on our way out. "I hope you liked it" the guide enquired politely. "If you plan to go to the Nimishamba Temple and club it with Tipu's Palace and Gol-Gumbaz, let me know. I will come with you... and give you a good price for the entire package! For foreign tourists.. I normally charge...." We politely declined the offer.
"Please don't tell people to cut the line from the next time. It is not right. We would have earned more punya had we stood in the queue!" I tried to clear my conscience.
"Saar! Saar! What saar!? This is India saar! Indian style only here! No US....."
It was simply impossible.
Our spot decision, despite the reluctance, made us party to the crime. It looked as if "Indian style" meant following rules...... essentially rules of convenience! It would provide a fitting explanation for the ugly "spot fixing and betting" saga which unfolded later that week. We are like that only!
You must visit the Ranganathaswamy Temple. You must engage the services of our guide. You must repeat as we do- everyday.... with our fingers joined in a "chin-mudra":
"Welcome to the shree-----renga-----natha-----swamy-----temple!"
"The name of town ij-----shree----renga-----patna!!"
