Tourism and Shivratri at Thiruvannamail: The Journey 15

Ambiga’s Guest House in Thiruvannamalai is owned by a pious man named Vadivelu who has a Malayali wife from Thrissur and two sons working in the IT industry in Chennai. He is a soft spoken man and is happy to have a writer and painter as his guests. In his bachelor days Vadivelu was a disciple of Shivananda Yogi and it was his Guru’s decision to marry a Malayali woman who too was a disciple. Vadivelu likes Tamil literature and is fond of the songs written by Vairamuthu. Right in front of the guest house where he lives in ground floor with his family there is a mango orchard. He has strategically placed a cot under one of the trees from which he could keep an eye on what is going on around in the guest house premises and along the road. As there are not too many guests residing, Vadivelu’s time is mostly spent in day dreaming and I am afraid to say, worrying. Though he is a spiritually inclined person, his face betrays the worries that he carries in his mind. He tells me that he has two sons; one is married and settled and the other is looking for a girl. He and his wife prefer the girl somewhere from Kerala. He asks me my whereabouts and upon knowing that I am from Trivandrum, his face beams and he asks me to look for a girl for his daughter. He amuses me by saying that though caste no bar, he would like to have his son married to a Nair or Brahmin girl. He underlines the fact that as he is a disciple of Shivananda Yogi, his mind is not polluted by caste considerations. I take a deep look at him and smile.

The street where Ambiga’s Guest House is located is strangely called ‘Aanaay Piranthaan’, that means, ‘One who is born as a Man’. This particular expression is used among the old people in Tamil Nadu and Kerala to point out a person who is a ‘man’, one who belongs to the male gender, nothing more nothing less. When one says, ‘Aanappirannon’ it simply means ‘a guy’. But when the word is used giving emphasis different contexts, it becomes a bit chauvinistic; Aanaay Piranthaan’ could be an aggressive male; a thing of pride and so on. I do not understand why such a deserted place like that should carry a name like that. There is a small village shrine a few paces from the guest house; a tiffin centre and a primary school. There is nothing exceptional about the place though the dirty road leads to highway to Bangalore. Digging at the history of the place, I gather from Vadivelu that the place where the guest house stands had been to his father’s property which has come to him after his death. He belongs to that village and all his brothers and sisters have got similar plot. Till recently it was a laid back place and when he decided to make a home and guest house no plot in the vicinity had a pucca building or human presence. Things changed quite fast in the last one decade. Despite immense water scarcity constructions have been happening in the place for the last few years. Vadivelu has a couple of plots to offer for good price. He takes us there to show us. The barren land marked by stones and colored bricks. Sooner than later there will be multi storied buildings filling up here.

As we drive around to know the place, we see most of the barren land along the road are similarly divided and marked. Each plot is sold showing the great view of the Arunachala mountain to the potential buyer. The buyer imagines himself alone or waking up with his family looking at the mighty mountain every day, throughout life. Anil Janardanan, an artist who is with us tells that anybody who buys a plot there thinking that he could have a mountain view from his balcony will be eventually fooled by the present prospect. According to Anil, the building mafia has been flouting all the development rules and making high rise buildings all over smelling the growing touristic potential of Ramana Ashram. The plots from where today we get a full view of the mountain, once the buildings are up, will be of no use; neither spiritual nor aesthetical. A few days back, a gory video of someone being hacked to death right in front of the Thiruvannamalai temple was doing the rounds in social media. It turned out to be a land mafia war and the abductions and killings have become a regular thing now in the ‘spiritual’ Thiruvannamalai. With all the plots along the Girivalam road taken by various individuals and trusts besides the local landlords, there is a constant search for land in order to develop touristic accommodations.

There are several indicators that show that a laid back place like Aanay Piranthaan has now become one of the much sort after areas. The place is a neat three kilometers away from the Ramana Ashram. If you are finding an accommodation in this part of Thiruvannamalai, you definitely need your own vehicle or at least a cycle for conveyance. To find the nearest coffee shop or internet café you have to walk at least two kilometers. However, the life here seems to be absolutely different now. There is a college of some technical education right next to the guest house. Some investor has already found this place roaring into prominence and he has put in his money to start a college. Within a few months there will be college buses plying here and youngsters hanging out; these will bring forth avenues that would cater to this young crowd. But for the time being that prospectus seems to be very minimal. But the real development is in the real estate and related developments. The people around say in hushed tones that several of the buildings coming up are owned by benamis for the Italians. There is an Italian mafia in the spiritual business here they say. Italians bring hoards of rich spiritual seekers and make them buy properties here. I do not know this is myth or reality. Whatever it is there is a strong presence of foreigners here.

Foreigners are not new to Thiruvannamalai. In fact Ramana Ashram has been made popular by foreigners themselves. The temple town became the Ashram town with the help of several foreigners. The main properties along the main road are either owned or occupied by foreigners. But their lives have been always in and around the Ashram. It never went beyond a kilometer though a few people had found some permanent accommodation in far off places in cycling distance. Today, living in cycling or scootering distance seems to be the only option for the foreigners in Thiruvannamalai. This has forced even the domestic travelers like me to look for accommodation in far off places. It is interesting to see how the places change with the presence of a new foreign crowd. The sign boards that I see along the way to Aanay Piranthaan astonish me. ‘Internet Café’, ‘Breakfast and Dinner service’ and even ‘Washing Machine Laundry’. The small cafes and restaurants are rustic places that are just created for the foreigners. With no pizza huts or KFCs around the foreigners also settle for the common south Indian fare of idlis and dosas. These cafes serve just that. But the timing is interesting; foreigners eat early and retire early. So even if you go there after eight at night you may not get fresh food. The foreigners all have eaten and gone by 7.45 pm. And what you get is the left over. The boy behind the counter, a true Tamil boy, upon asking the wash basin tells me in accent, ‘Just behind the pillar.’ Even the stray dogs are quite discerning and discriminative here. I find myself being barked at while the foreigners amble by without even being sniffed at. Instead these Indian dogs wag tails at them. Dogs too know how to survive in the changing market.

Today is Shivratri; Shiva’s night. It is a very special day for Thiruvannamalai. The footpaths are filled with way side vendors who have come from different places to sell their wares; right from water melon juice to special soda lemon water, from rudraksh to trinkets, from footwear to kitchen utensils. We have already done Girivalam in the morning and are not keen to undertake that fourteen kilometers walk again at night. However, we decide to walk for some time. On Shivratri days, it is said that as Parvati took penance till Shiva appeared, a devotee is supposed to keep awake whole night. The roads are not full though there are so many people started their Girivalam trip on barefoot. Foreigners who have come in just a day before or on that morning look very enthusiastic and curious. They all walk in barefoot while most of the Indians prefer to wear sandals while Girivalam walk. The rural men and women are also very particular about walking barefoot. Rural women in batches walk wearing the same kind of sari. I am told that for each religious occasion these days textile mills produce certain kind of saris targeting the rural women who go into frenzy during these auspicious days. Back in Kerala, on the Attukal Ponkala day (India’s biggest women’s congregation to propitiate Devi by making food as offering) I found the textiles shops announcing the sales of Ponkala Sari. If you buy one Ponkala sari you get an earthen pot free.

After walking for a few kilometers we sit at a lemon soda centre. It seems to be a family business as the mother fills water into the soda bottles from a water purifier, while father fits six bottles at a time into a contraption that puts carbon dioxide in it through pressurized valves. The daughter, a young woman in his mid twenties is the real lemon soda maker. We decide to sit there because there is an announcement in Tamil coming out of a loudspeaker that exhorts the devotees to come with their families to have a very special lemon soda with medicinal qualities. It is so interesting to listen to that announcement. The second attraction is the woman making lemon soda. For her it seems to be an art. She takes different orders from different people and makes them meticulously in different glasses. Without any commotion or mix up she hands over the glasses to her uncle who delivers it to the tired but excited customers in the chairs. We order for a normal lemon soda with salt and it is so delicious. However as we listen to the medicinal values of ginger soda, we think of going for it in another round. We ask her to make one each for us. She comes forward a little and asks us whether any of us got stomach problem. She speaks in chaste English. She tells us that if we have stomach problem it is not advisable to drink ginger soda. Then she makes ginger soda for us with so much dexterity and flair.

As we walk back we find so the devotees in the road have increased. It is already eleven past. In another half an hour it will be a new day. But in Thiruvannamalai, twelve o clock and the transition to a new day do not have much importance. It is a whole night affair and people are going to be walking till morning. At six o clock in the morning there is will be special rituals in the temple and the village devotees will go back only after attending that. We sit there at the pavement, recounting incidents and anecdotes. Anil talks about the other festival days in Thiruvannamalai. He is a regular visitor here. From Kodaikkanal where he lives, it is easy to come here by bus. Across the road Ramana Ashram gate remains closed and the whole area is shrouded in silence. The devotees who walk this Girivalam road and the devotees who come to meditate at Ramana Ashram are of two different types. For a moment the Ashram gate looks like the gate that leads to Auschwitz. I tell this to Anil. We smile into the darkness.

The Relevance of National Awards in the Time of Fake Political Artists

Johny ML with Akhil Mohan and Sajeesh PA

(This is a near to the fact transcript of my speech delivered at the RLV College of Fine Arts, Thrippoonithura, on the occasion of felicitating Akhil Mohan and Sajeesh PA, the National Lalit Kala Academy Award Winners. Some portions of the speech are elaborated and modified for the link language of English)

Dear friends,

Thank you very much for inviting me to deliver the key note address on the occasion of felicitating Akhil Mohan and Sajeesh PA, who have been conferred with the National Lalit Kala Academy Awards. Both these award winners are the former students in the RLV College of Music and Fine Arts, Thrippoonithura and this gesture of felicitating them by the same college is a commendable one because in these days of spectacular art and celebrity artists none cares to give that much importance to the National Award winners. Many people still think that the artists get national awards only when they do certain lobbying and boot licking of the jury members or authorities. I would dwell deeply into this subject a bit later.

However, both Akhil Mohan and Sajeesh PA, two gifted painters who have passed out from this college are lucky because at least a few newspapers have written about their achievement though the so called national dailies published in English language have not given due attention to these award winners. But don’t lose heart. The very fact that at least a few Malayalam newspapers cared to publish this news itself is heartening enough besides the attention and appreciation that these artists have already gained from their friends in the social media. When all other media fail the artists at least the social media these days stand with them. Being a Malayali I feel proud at this moment because I believe this is a good start provided these artists fuel their creativity further and make everyone to take notice of what they do in the coming days. I am sure the media are also going to take notice of it.

Why I say that as artists both Akhil Mohan and Sajeesh PA should feel good about the kind of appreciation that they have already got from their friends and the regional media because recently while I was attending a panel discussion organized by the Bombay Art Society at the NGMA in Mumbai on the topic of ‘Writing on Art in the Regional Languages’, I had randomly asked the audience whether any member of it knew about the National Award Winners from Maharashtra. It was an august audience with stalwarts like Sudhir Patwardhan, Suhas Bahulkar, Shakuntala Kulkarni and Abhay Sardesai among them. None of them had even heard about the National Award of the year let alone the award winners from Maharashtra. I did not insist that they should know, but I said that it was just an indication and a point to be pondered further.

There is a common view about the National Awards; if a National Academy gives an award to a writer or a theatre activist, soon it will be hailed as a great achievement, while if it is given to an artist, none cares much. The persisting complaint from many quarters is this that the media celebrate only the writers, dancers, singers and actors; never the visual artists. Let me explain the reason for this phenomenon. First of all the constituency in which visual arts function is a very limited one. Even the greatest of writer and actor at times do not understand the greatness ingrained in a work of art or in an artist. So while the visual artists take a lot of pride in being readers and viewers of these people’s writings and acts, hardly a few from the other side of the fence accept or acknowledge that they understand art and artists. If at all they do, they do it for the purpose of media, especially when they visit some spectacular art expositions like the Kochi Muziris Biennale.

So, the limitation of visual arts is an inbuilt one; its constituency is very small. Very few people, compared to the general population, make art and very few people appreciate art. Another unfortunate thing is that even among the minority that appreciates art we find a miniscule of members who would think of becoming a patron of the art. A person who boasts to have spent Rs.25 lakhs to buy Italian Marbles for his bathroom prefers to buy a Rs.20/- poster to stick it inside for visual embellishment and never thinks of spending Rs.5000/- to buy an original drawing from an artist who lives in the neighborhood. The media go by the readers’ taste; when readers themselves do not have any taste for visual art, why should they waste their ‘valuable’ space for publishing something about art at all? But that is not the case with literature. Whether you read it or not, you should have a home library. Buying books, even if it is not a largely seen trait, is given preference over buying a work of art for the only one reason, ‘we buy what we understand’. So people buy literature and cinema. They do not understand art so they do not buy it.

I have a different opinion about it. It is not because people do not understand art therefore they do not buy but because they do not have any reason to make an effort to understand art or artists who make art. Let me tell you those people who visit art expos like Kochi Muziris Biennale do not have a different attitude than what they have in them when they visit Vega Land or Disney Land or such theme parks. If we say that people throng in KMB sites because they want to take in the fresh air of art, we are fooling ourselves. It is a touristy thing and people like tourism only because the foreign tourists go there. If foreigners go in certain neighborhood suddenly we understand there is something in there. So we too go there. Secondly we have a problem of too much of literacy. When a society is too much literate in the literary sense, they do not understand anything other than words. Kerala is such a society that thrives in words. Speeches, television debates, social media discussions, reading newspapers and literature are rejuvenating medicines for the Malayalis. To certain extent this is true in the case of Bengalis also. But if you look at the states that never boast of their literacy in fact celebrate their visual artists. You go to Orissa and Bihar, the media celebrate their artists. The artists need not wear the worst fashion or speak in strangely accented English in order to catch attention of the press in those states. Only in Kerala, because of over literacy, the media need extraneous stimulants and atrocious English to give artists news space and column space.

We are in a Catch 22 situation. We have a very active and well informed media as well as a vigilant public. But this public does not want art. As this public does not want art the news media also do not give any attention to the visual artists or art. Now, imagine a different scenario; say, the media are celebrating artists irrespective of awards or exhibitions. All the media give a weekly spot for art. Don’t you think that the people would take interest in art slowly? They would definitely. It is a mutual process; the more the media project arts the more the people lap it up. The more people take interest the more the media talk about it. But somewhere it has to start. The process has to start at some point by some daring people within the media. But unfortunately they go behind the spectacular programs like Kochi Muziris Biennale. Recently Anish Kapoor, the world renowned artist came to Kochi and made a statement like that the Biennale gave the Kerala people a different lesson towards appreciating art. The media celebrated his words. But I would like to ask Mr.Kapoor who is he to say that? What does he know about the aesthetic sensibilities of a Malayali. Why should an average Malayali internalize the forced quantum jump from painting to the cutting edge installations? What is the outcome of such an unlearning and relearning of aesthetics? If I am in the place of media, I would have told Anish Kapoor to get lost. He, like the Kochi Muziris Biennale is an agent to the western garbage to be proliferated in the Indian shore. They want to kill the traditional skills of India and fill in our museums and aesthetical avenues with the western reject garbage hailed by the so called Indian contemporary artists supported by the agencies like Kochi Muziris Biennale.

When we talk about the National Awards in visual arts, I have seen many people raising their eye brows. They doubt the authenticity of these awards because they believe that these awards come by a lot of boot licking and lobbying. Let me tell you, during the art market boom people stopped looking at the National Awards at all. They even stopped doubting the National Awards. Why? Because till then they were lobbying and bootlicking for it. Now with the arrival of the boom, those former lobbyists became the award makers themselves. They no longer needed awards or national agencies. They set up their own awards and started giving to the artists they wanted to promote. I would like to bring the names of the Kashi Art Award, FICA Award, Khoj Award and so many other awards. What did they do? They gave awards to the artists whom they wanted to promote in the market. They sent them abroad for three to six months to come back and do the ‘international art’. This was done deliberately to create a new market. Look at the way Jitish Kallat got the first SKODA prize. Jitish had already been a well established and well exhibited and internationally renowned artist. By giving award to him SKODA was not just appreciating his art but taking him in as brand ambassador. Has SKODA prize done any good to Indian art? Same is the case when the liquor major Absolut joins hands with a renowned artist like Subodh Gupta. They are simply sharing the brand. Now look at Sudarshan Shetty. He is working with Rolls Royce company for a project. Once again, look at these three people, two were/are Kochi Muziris Biennale curators and one is a participant. Do you see the truth of it now?

When the market collapsed in 2008, Indian art market stood the pressure of it for another three more years only to succumb by 2012. Many galleries were closed. Many were relocated to smaller places. Publication of catalogues was stopped. Many artists were dropped from the list of artists of the galleries. So many things happened. At that point some of the well known mid career artists woke up to say that it was time to look at the National Lalit Kala Academy or regional Lalit Kala Academies. Suddenly, when all the other streams were dried out, with most of the awards stopped, they felt that it was time to tap the potential of the National academies. Such opportunists were the artists. I understand that all the Lalit Kala Academies are not transparent. But things are changing these days. National Academies are not offering a future for the artists who have been awarded. It is an appreciation and an indication. The awardees are selected by a jury that thinks that they have the potential to go further. Apart from a National Show and a certificate and cash, no future is assured by the National Academy, which I think is a good thing to do. It is not the state’s job to carry forward the career of an artist. It is not in the art market or business. I am sure that both Sajeesh and Akhil deserved this award that’s why the jury selected them from many other applicants. And this awards gives them a great opportunity and a great responsibility; responsibility unto to themselves.

Let me close this speech by citing one more thing. An artist’s responsibility is not towards the society. Artist has a responsibility to share with the society like any other member of a society. An artist need not necessarily be working from within the system of the society. He/she could choose to be out of it. He could remain in a critical space in between and always negotiate his space for his purpose. There are fake prophets moving around who paint Gandhi, Sree Narayana Guru and Jinnah and call those paintings and sculptures political. There are women artists who paint some female saint and call themselves feminists. It is high time that we recognize all these fake coins and discard them. An artist’s life is not to compromise with the society nor is it to critique the society constantly. An artist’s job is to be the clear conscience of the universe, a mirror held unto himself first and later to others, his efforts are to be directed at finding the larger truths of peace and happiness through the explorations of human potentials and fine tuning of skills. That’s the life and job of an artist. It is good to be together, holding hands and stand in unison. But remember, when you are holding hands on either sides, your hands are no longer free to do your work. Let the hands be free and let them hold whenever need be. Grow wings that could take you beyond the limited desires. One day who knows you want nothing like the young lawyer in Chekhov’s ‘Bet’.

Thank you

JohnyML

(Postscript: In my speech I also mentioned why artists should focus on what they are good at and continue doing that. This would take them to the minds of people. While many other artists could be forgotten in Kerala, the works of Kanai Kunhiraman would remain as he has done what he is good at throughout his creative career, which he still continues vigorously. Take my words as prophecy, there will be a day when there will be temples for Kalabhavan Mani and Vinayakan for they are the people who did (are doing) what they had/have been good at. They are the rock stars who touched the minds of the people. Artists also could do that)

 

Waking up in a Temple Town: The Journey 13

From some distance a cock crew. From the tunnel like darkness lined by the shadows of trees and some strange forms there came lights once in a while reminding me of the single eyed monsters that flew all over in the long, distant and lonely night. It is heartening to listen to the noises of the day break. Somewhere an aluminium milk can is being lifted to the carrier of a two wheeler. In some indistinct distance a cycle falls into a ditch making a clattering noise. Temples have woken up from a short slumber and the sleepy loudspeakers murmur devotional songs. I wake up to these sounds. I search for my body which I find in the most uncomfortable position reclining on the pushed back seat of the car. I widen my eyes and see that we are in the same place where we had parked the car last night. The nightly ethereal creatures have not lifted us up and placed us somewhere else just for the sake of some strange fun. On my right I see the silhouette of the palm trees and on my left there is this long and wide stretch of a barren plot. My stomach rumbles. The body demands some cleaning. I think of going to relieve myself in that vacant plot. Nobody is around. I could carry a bottle of water as most of the people do in India and ease myself somewhere there. I think for a few moments. I gulp some water. But habits are so strong that I find it difficult to defecate in the open even if it is dark and nobody is around. We decide to drive around the Girivalam road and see what could be done.

The sight of the Girivalam road rejuvenates me. I have come to this place; I have walked this road. I try to peep out through the glass and catch a glimpse of the magnificent sight of Thiruvannamalai (the great Arunachala Mountain). It is there, mighty, tall and pulling everything towards it with its mighty silence. The municipality has taken special care to keep the Girivalam road clean. The road has a neat and tiled pavement on the left side and the right side is now fenced off from the road. In my last visit the fencing was not there and one could walk into the forest area and walk up to the foot of the Arunachala hills. Once upon a time, when Ramana Maharshi was alive, it is said that he never used to take the properly made road but preferred to walk by the forest path, meeting mendicants, shepherds and people along the way. He used to take a couple of days to cover the whole distance. The people like me who are here for the instant gratification of their spiritual cravings make it a point to walk all the distance of Girivalam path in three to four hours before the sun comes out strongly. Thiruvannamalai is a hot place and the scarcity of water is already felt. I could see devotees doing Girivalam early in the morning. The sadhus and mendicants have not woken up yet. And the ones who are already up look fresh and agile. We stop at a tea stall and wait for the woman to make tea for us. Suddenly I sadhu walks in and stand there is silence. I find him familiar. He is the same Baba who was singing passionately on the festival day, three years back when I visited this place last. The woman who is making it pours tea in a paper cup and gives it to him. Without uttering a word he takes the tea and walks off. We drink tea. Just across the road there is a temple which has come alive by now. In fact all those temples that have been lying disused for a long time are now revived; new temples are in the making. I see a lot of plots marked out for building new ashrams of new age Babas. Thiruvannamalai is changing fast. The changes that have been happening to Thiruvannamalai of late are felt so strongly which I would recount later in this chapter.

All over the world it seems common that a cup of hot tea in the morning preceded by a glass of clean water sends people to the toilet. One needs immediate access to toilet once he has consumed water and tea in succession. We get back to the car and rush to the temple side which is around ten kilometers away from where we are now. On the way, near the temple, though we had seen a lot of public toilets in our last visit, we ask someone about the locality of the public toilets. He shows us the way and we reach there. As we just come out of the car, we hear the exhortations of many people from different direction. “Toilet…Toilet…Ten Rupees only.” Workers have been sent out in the streets in order to solicit the people who are desperate to use toilet and bathroom facilities. As the old man who mans the toilet in the vicinity sees us coming out of the car suddenly increases the price. It is now Rs.20/- per head. He says that you could do everything there. That means you could use toilet, brush teeth and take bath. There are two levels in this multistoried building. The first floor is for men and the second floor is for women. Like death and liquor, using of toilet is a great leveler anywhere in the world. Especially in India where the availability of clean toilets along the roads is a rarity, the mere sight of a clean toilet is like the very sight of heaven or nirvana for someone who is desperate to use it. We go into the building after paying. Though the man outside has claimed that the toilets are clean, the cleanliness that I see there could be accepted only because of the desperation that the user is undergoing. I do the morning ablutions and come out fresh.

Interestingly, when you are looking for a toilet, you are like the master archer, Arjun. You see only the toilet. You do not see hotels, restaurants, Arunachalam hill, the great Thiruvannamalai temple and the innumerable small business establishments and people around it as you are focused on your bowel movements. Once you come out fresh, everything comes back into your attention and focus. There on your left you see the mighty mountain watching over everything happening in and around the temple city. Here are the four Gopuram gates of the temple. Here you see the people milling around. Tomorrow is Shivratri, a very special day for Thiruvannamalai temple. The Girivalam and temple visit done on that day are considered to be very auspicious. People come from different parts of Tamil Nadu and from all over the world on this day. In Thiruvannamalai, Shivratri and Karthikadeepam are very important days. Full moon days are also deemed to be auspicious here. We go to the temple. As it is not even six o clock in the morning, the rush has not started. The next day, I am told that there would not be even an inch space to place your feet. Today it looks less crowded. We go into the temple and there still time for the main sanctum to open for worship. We stand in queue. There are families, old people, young ones and the foreigners are curiously missing at this hour. The temple is too imposing and the ambience of divinity is a sharpened with the burning of camphor and so many lights. I see a separate queue for the VIPs and I find it an abominable practice. As we say that everyone is equal before God, the temple authorities make special lines (sometimes against a payment) for the VIPs and to those who could afford to pay. We stand in the queue for the ordinary people and waits for the darshan. Finally the temple doors open and we see the Agni Lingam (Shiva is supposed to have manifested in the temple in the form of Fire). I say my prayers and come out after smearing some holy ash on my forehead.

Idli-Sambar is the staple food of Thriruvannamalai. Though Thiruvannamalai temple is famous and is visited by innumerable people from all over India, the temple city is made famous by the Ramana Ashram. When the young Venkitaramanan (Ramana Maharshi’s name) came to the temple town it was purely a South India temple hardly visited by the foreigners. The presence of foreigners became strong when the fame of Ramana Maharshi spread far and wide through the writings of David Godman and others. The more the foreign scholars and writers started coming to the temple town the more the fame of the temple town kept increasing. Today, while the South Indian population consider the temple more important than the Ramana Ashram, the pan Indian and the foreign visitors come here for Ramana Ashram first and the temple second. Interestingly, Girivalam is something that connects these two places; one is the place of worship and the other is the place of meditation. Everyone likes to do the Girivalam a good walk around the hill; that is around thirteen to fourteen kilometers. Those who do Girivalam every day could shed all the fat and become absolutely thin and toned. The idli-sambar breakfast makes one first develop some digestive disorders and later it becomes a staple food for you. We have our share of idli-sambar and drive to the Ramana Ashram.

In the Ramana Ashram, the morning prayer has just started. The foreigners are already there. Most of them look very pious and drained. They are famous for acting out the teachings of Ramana Maharshi. The moment they enter the Ashram their faces go pious; and this pious expression often projects some sort of sadness. They all look very sad when they are going round and round around the Ramana Samadhi and the moment they come out they all look happy. I see the irony in it. One has to be happy in the presence of Ramana Maharshi because Maharshi says that one makes one’s own sorrows through the activities of one’s mind. Deep meditation, in all the philosophical streams, is all about stopping the activities of the mind. Sorrows are caused by mind; the thoughts. It is difficult to stop thoughts from coming. It is strenuous to finish thoughts completely. Meditation is more tedious and painful than physical work out. But when you are in the presence of pious memories and spiritual presence of Ramana Maharshi or any Maharshi in that case, you should be lighter in appearance for it gives a chance for you to focus on the presence/present than your own thoughts. But somehow people have misunderstood that spiritualism is all about looking grave, serious and sad. One could be chirpy, chatty, happy and all over while keeping the inner core in a meditative mood. The meditative aspect of life would be expressed through the actions done by the person who is prone to meditation. If one commits grave mistakes after doing a lot of meditation or act out piety just for the sake of it, there is no point in meditation. The aspect of meditation sends one deeper into one’s self and that helps in the identification with the larger universe. It is one point where all the differences fade and the meditative person becomes one with all; or not different from all. If someone feels very painful while doing meditation or agitated and sad in the presence of the spiritual guide, then it has to be seen in a different light. Perhaps, the way the foreigners with their way of upbringing approaching meditation is completely different from the way a person who is brought up in the Indian ethos and tradition.

Even when I am inside the Ashram, I feel exhausted. What I need is a good sleep and relaxing of the body. Yesterday’s long drive has terribly exhausted me. I come out of the Ashram. Take a mat from the car and spread it under a banyan tree where mendicants often sleep. Now they have gone to beg somewhere else. The place is free now. I lie down there but sleep gives me a slip. Just above my head a monkey sits and eats something. I look around and I find the place almost unclean. Though I have decided to become an avdhoot, habits are still strong that I cannot sleep in an unclean place. I tell myself that I am not prepared to become a complete sadhu who has eschewed all kinds of creature comforts. No, for the first time I realize that I cannot sleep in a dirty place. I get up from there and go into the car. We drive around for some time. Each time I see a tiled pavement where the mendicants are preparing themselves for the day; some are literally decking themselves up as sannyasis with the right amount of holy ash smeared on their bodies. I am desperate to go and lie down there but I know that I wouldn’t be able to do so. The sun has gone up in the sky. The Girivalam enthusiasts dare the heat of the sun by walking bare foot on the asphalt road. There are foreigners and Indians on the path. The foreigners are very serious about whatever they do. Indians are god fearing but at the same time they consider gods as their friends so they are not so serious about the way they are walking. They are fun loving people and each person enjoys the walk differently.

With no place to sleep and no idea what to do next (for our decision is to sleep inside the car which has proved a disaster in the previous night) we drive around and drives around fourteen kilometers west from the Girivalam road and reach a small village called Kangi. The roads are very narrow and are partly made. The people there seem to be very laid back and are absolutely not interested in the people who come visiting there. In fact not too many people venture into these villages as it is far away from the attractions of both the temple and the Ashram. Those who stray into these places are the people who are either bored or are looking for some exotic locations to take photographs, paint or just to drive around. After driving through the roads that have not seen the tyre prints of SUVs, we come back to the main road and finally decide to go to some guest house or hotel where we could park our car and find a bed to sleep. We drive to the same direction where we had parked the car on the previous night. This is somewhere here Christian Ulhmann, the artist stays. He has some cottages to rent out. If there are no occupants we could stay there. If no place available, we could park the car in his premises and stretch ourselves down on the mat under some tree. The proposal looks too lucrative even to dispute. I am desperate to catch some sleep. At Christian Ulhmann’s place we find the cottages full and water less. Ulhmann’s wife, Rani Christian welcomes us and she speaks a very peculiar English which we often listen from the semi-educated people in the tourist places. They could communicate in English but that English cannot be used for any other purpose. They make us feel that if language is all about communication, then all the intricacies of language are nothing but fad for this much language is enough for effective communication. Ulhmann is not at home. But Rani tells us that we could park our car inside but the only problem is that there is no water even for her own guests in the cottages. She suggests that there is a guest across the road and it is a good place to stay. We thank her and go to the guest house she has suggested. It is called Ambiga’s Guest House. After haggling for price a little we take a room there. From the window I could see the mighty mountain looking at me. I spread the mat down on the floor. Then I have a dreamless sleep.