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 The
travel reminiscences carry a picturesque description of the lands as
well as the human tales the author meets with.
The trip to Kedar
The next day, we took a trek for about 20 miles to
the Chinese border. Here we were Guests of Border Security Force for
one day. The day was spent bathing in waterfalls and rivulets and
learning to shoot guns and eating the best food after eating
potatoes and more potatoes for days together.
An unknown woman
Being the only woman, I was given the use of the
tent of our host the Camp Commandant, one Mr.Singh, apparently a
very happy go well man. There on the bedside table of the Camp
Commandant, I found a picture of the most beautiful woman, wearing a
Koorgi style saree. I was quite delighted to see the picture and
thought she must be his wife or girl friend back home waiting for
him eagerly, to come back.
And her story
As soon as I came out, I sought Mr.Singh and very meaningfully
enquired about the lady in the picture. This was the sad part of the
story. She was his longstanding girl friend. Eventually he had
married her against all odds, since she was a Koorgi and he was a
Punjabi. Yet God had willed otherwise. Due to some mishap she had
passed away, leaving him alone in this world. He had then
volunteered to come to the farthest post on the border of the
country.
This sad tale depressed all of us. After this we became great
friends and admirers of Mr.Singh and invited him to visit us at the
National Academy. He visited the Academy as a visiting lecturer on
several occasions. However I never saw him again after 1974.
Destination Kedarnath
With the help of the Border Security Force we trekked upto the
Chinese border and had a look at the Chinese mountain ranges, which
were as magnificent as ours. We left for Kedarnath in another bus,
which was not as bad as the one, which took us to Badrinath. We
halted for the night at the bottom of the hill and started our
14-mile trek early in the morning.
The pilgrim season was on and a lot of pilgrims were with us.
There were old men and women being carried in dollies or baskets.
Some were riding miles, rest were walking like us. Ganges in the
form of Alaknanda was gushing down the hill at a rapid speed and the
route kept going up, along the river.
The ways are narrow, steep and
The way was very narrow and steep. At places only one person
could walk at a time. One felt breathless every few minutes, and
needed rest. Tea was available all along. There were small shops
selling food and giving blankets and shelter to those who had to
halt enroute. We had our lunch in one of these shops. It was again
alu and roti but we were lucky this time, we also got some fresh
homemade white butter to go with it. I can still feel the taste
lingering in my mouth.
The scenery enroute was most enchanting. Magnificent and noisy
Alakananda flowing on one side and highest snow clad mountain ranges
overlooking us, on the other side.
Eventually we reached Kedarnath by the evening, as the sun was
just setting between the two peaks. The sky was just changing from
white to yellow, to orange and to red. The valley was a flat and
green carpet, dotted with meadows and thick woods and a small temple
on a slightly elevated place, beckoned us. We were looking at this
marvel, when suddenly temple bells starting tolling, for the evening
aarti, was just to begin. We rushed to the temple, not wanting to
miss a single moment of bliss.
A unique aarti
The aarti was unique. A lingayat priest wearing only a dhoti and
an angvastram (upper cloth) was performing aarti with a variety of
lamps. There were lamps with one flame, with three flames, with five
flames, with 100 flames and so on. Each lamp was a piece of art.
He held the lamp in his hand and performed a type of snake dance
with his body and limbs moving, as if he was the very serpent in the
neck of Shiva. We stood enthralled with the devotion of the priest
and the oneness with Lord, which he was experiencing, and at the
same time, conveying to the onlooker, in the process of aarti.
The history
Later, I learnt, that 'Lingayats' of 'Karnataka' had a
preferential right to the priesthood of Kedarnath temple, as the
devotion of Lingayat to Lord Shiva is as unquestionable, as of any
other Shivite community, from North India.
It is very interesting to note here that one of the high priests
in Rameshwara temple is always from Nepal. The temple of the Lord of
Seven Hills, the holy shrine of 'Tirupathi' has hereditary Tamil
priests belonging both to the Aaiyer and Ayangar, namely Shivite and
Vaishnavite sects.
Similarly in some of the important North Indian Shrines,
Namboodari Brahmin Priests of Kerala have preferential right to
serve. All this goes to show that these religious institutions have
been acting as unifying forces in this vast country of ours for
centuries.
Resting for the better
From the temple, walking through the meadows and greens, we
reached our resting-place, the hotel built by U.P. Tourism. Here for
the first time after we left Mussoorie, we got clean rooms, neat
beds with white sheets, soft pillows, and warm blankets; complete
with room heaters.
We also got sumptuous and hot meals. By 7.00 p.m., tired and
exhausted we were fast asleep. We woke up early as we wanted to
watch the sun rising over mount Kailash the abode of 'Lord Shiva and
his consort Parvati' where he performs his cosmic dances, his 'Ananda
Tandava' in joy and his 'Rudra Tandava' in ire.
We walked upto the temple once again to witness the divine
priest, and his divine performance. On return we stopped by, to look
at the wares some sadhus and holy men were selling. They sold 'Rudraksh
Malas', crystals, saligrams, herbs, Shilajit, natural vitalizers,
precious stones, tulsibeads.
Wearing the rudraksha
I picked up lots of rudhraksh, and a necklace of large yellow
stone, which I wore for many years, till it was lost. I also used to
wear my rudhraksh malas as if they were fashion jewelry, till my
father-in-law forbade me to wear them, and took them away, saying
they were not good for newly wedded people to wear.
After breakfast we started our return trek down the hill, which
was much easier. By afternoon, we were at the bottom of the hill,
inside our bus on the way to Mussoorie.
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