Dwaraka Trip: Somnath and Veraval (Chapter 5 of 5)

Dwaraka Trip: Somnath and Veraval
(Chapter 5 of 5)

Somnath is the first of the 12 Jyotirlingas. Gujarat houses the 12th as well – Nageshwara – that we saw a day before. I wish someone recited a sloka that suggested that if one had darshan of the first and the last Jyotirlingas, it was equivalent to having visited all the 12. Anyway, each member took a tally of the Jyotirlingas he/she had covered including Somnath. Personally we recorded seven.

Located right by the Arabian seashore on Saurashtra, Somnath was plundered sixteen times by the Muslim rulers. In 1951 Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel reconstructed the temple in its present form. Apart from a magnificent structure, a beautiful garden surrounds the temple, thus serving both as a place of worship and one for enjoying the sea breeze under shade with flowers blooming all around. From what I have seen, this gigantic idol is next only to Brihadeshwara in Tanjore - leaving no chance to anyone to complain that, back home, he is unable to visualize the deity.

Thanks to Ashutosh and Siva's social networking we learnt that on the day we had planned our visit, the temple would close at five in the evening - something unheard of in Somnath's history. The idol was to get a face-lift in the form of a gold covering, and expert goldsmiths would be at work all through the night giving finishing touches. So we were all the more in a hurry not to miss darshan amidst possible bus loads of devotees that would line up to fit into the timeframe.

Ironically we had a very good darshan; it was less crowded. (Other devotees, had better foresight; they postponed their visit to the morrow - to have darshan with gold covering.) After darshan Siva collected all of us to sit by the side of the sanctum sanctorum, and together we spent about twenty minutes chanting slokas in unison in an intonation that the crowd in Gujarat was not accustomed to. In other words, it attracted attention.

As we came out we saw a replica of the presiding deity being decorated with an artificial gold covering to be taken in procession on a chariot for people to have an advance glimpse.

Spontaneously we decided we would visit the temple again to see the idol with gold covering. We did so the next day and had darshan amid a teeming crowd.

Then came the last leg of our pilgrimage part – visit to Bhalka Teerth (in Veraval) where Jara, the hunter shot Sree Krishna's red foot mistaking it for the face of a deer. Krishna was seated on a peepal tree. The lower portion of the tree is now covered with a silken dhoti so that people did not touch it. The roof of the temple had been built around the tree so that its jet-out skywards was unhindered. Near the tree-bed is a statue of Jara kneeling down with folded hands, apologizing for his blunder. It is said that soon after the shot, waves from the nearby sea swept Lord Krishna heavenwards. We had the privilege to spend a sun-setting session on the seashore the previous evening.

Family members who had been to Bhalka Teerth earlier, had cautioned us of a possible scene. There would be sudden wails in anguish by lady devotees at what had befallen the Lord. But we were in for a different setting. The Security Guard was shouting at a person taking video shots of the premises. The offender countered it with a matching volume that the prohibitory orders had not been displayed prominently. But finding it of no avail, he switched over to English hoping that that would settle things because of the possible inability of the Guard to retort. But it boomeranged. The Guard asked him to collect the Camcoder from the office of Archaeological Society of India. The offender's voice suddenly acquired a pleading tone. We wish we had stayed on till the end of the episode.

Earlier in the day we had gone to Gir forest to keep our date with the Asiatic lions. Normally all the open-safari jeeps are booked months in advance, and only about 35 are kept open for 'current' booking. So Siva and Ashutosh hurried at four in the morning to try their luck. Fortunately they were among the last to be accommodated.

Ashutosh and family got into one jeep, and us in another. There are eight dedicated routes, and each jeep is allotted one route at random. Ashutosh got route 5, and we 7. All through the route our guide prepared us well for disappointment saying that for the past five days nobody was lucky to spot lions. As a compensation he showed us different migratory birds, deer, peacocks, langoor, owls... Towards the fag end of the safari, there was a sudden hushed exchange of cell phone talks among the various guides. Then our Guide announced that if we were lucky we might encounter lions, though he might have to change the course from 7 to another, at the risk of his job. We took it as a ploy for a larger tip. Suddenly our jeep, as well as a few from other directions, stopped and switched off engines so that there was no purring sound. One jeep at a time made a detour from its designated route, into the deep forest where three lions were relaxing in a semi-sleep pose probably after a heavy lunch. Two of them raised their heads repeatedly to ponder whether the human species didn't have anything better to do than disturb them from their preparation for a siesta. On reaching a place where we were allowed to break our silence, we complimented each other at the day's catch. Siva tipped the guide and the driver rather liberally. All all of us celebrated the success with a freshly cooked sumptuous Kathiawadi lunch.

On comparing notes with Ashutosh, he said they heard a heavy roar of lions, though they didn't spot any. But they passed through a lake where they saw crocodiles.

At night we boarded the train to Ahmedabad where we had earmarked a whole day for shopping. Again, the organizing duo suggested that we should end the trip in as grand a manner as we began it, and took us to the famous Goardhan Thal. It was something that would stay in memory for years – so much of fare and so unending.

For return journey, it was in three groups – Ashutosh and family leaving by the same evening, Siva and company visiting Baroda to meet Dr Murali Krishna's brother, and the two of us leaving for Bangalore next early morning.

Before parting ways, one spontaneous sentence hung on everyone's lips: “So, when and where next?”

San Jose

28 January 2013

Dwaraka Trip: Nageshwara Jyotirlinga and Bet Dwaraka (Chapter 4 of 5)

Dwaraka Trip: Nageshwara Jyotirlinga and Bet Dwaraka
(Chapter 4 of 5) 

A fun-filled trip of guessing games, anecdotes, and what have you, came to a grinding halt when our Innova stopped at the hotel we had booked. The “Mumbai' group, consisting of Ashutosh, Ruchi, their two charming daughters, and Ashu's mother, landed at the same second thanks to Siva and Ashu's spacecraft-docking-precision coordination.

The meeting of the two groups was no less joyous than Ram-Bharat milap, making onlookers guess we were meeting after ages. Siva was happy having met his marathon-, badminton-, cricket-, and man-for-all-seasons friend Ashu; Prashanti, of Ruchi; and the entire group welcoming the addition of a third front, of kids, to the senior and middle-aged teams`.

We arrived long before our check-in time. Nonetheless, as one experiences in hotels in small towns and cities, the management made temporary arrangements for us to freshen up before we could undertake the visit for which the group had come all the way – the Dwarakadeesh temple.

Name any place, and chances are Dr Murali Krishna has a contact person. And so he had one in Dwaraka too, as in Jamnagar. He had telephoned his friend in advance to depute a reliable priest who combined the qualities of knowledge of the sthala puran and not relieve us of our pockets in toto.

Soft-spoken, mild mannered, the young priest, in his early thirties, negotiated us gently through the crowd at the Dwaraka temple, explaining at each point its importance.

Dwaraka is one of the seven holy places in India, along with Kashi, Mathura, Puri, Kanchi, Avantika, and Ayodhya. It is one of the char dhams that Adi Sankaracharya established: Jyotirmath, Dwaraka, Puri and Sringeri.

We had the best possible darshan of Dwarakadeesh for more minutes than we could hope for, thanks to the priest's deft handling. The highlight of his briefing was that we had entered through the Moksha dwar and exited through the Swarg dwar although ideally one should have done the other way round.

Siva picked one of the professional photographers hanging around. He took a group photo with the temple as the background. For a change everyone felt happy at his/her pose.

Back to hotel, the driver confided in us that our hotel might not be the best in comforts, but matchless in food. It was evident, for we had to take our turn, but it was worth waiting for. We ordered Punjabi thali, and the appetite pepped up the taste.

We then left for Nageshwara temple about which I gave an account in my last post, out of turn, thanks to a mix up in the route.

Our next destination was Bet Dwaraka. It is a tiny island the top of which houses the abode of Sri Krishna. One has to sail by boat for about twenty-five minutes. The boats were run by private bodies and hence until the boat was full – or, rather overfull – the anchor won't be released. Consequently we felt insecure both when we stepped into it which was shaky, and while sailing through to the destination jam-packed, literally breathing on the next person's shoulders. As you came out of it, you felt you had been granted a fresh lease of life.

At Bet Dwaraka one could safely vouch for the historical calculation that Mahabharata took place about 5200 years ago. The near-ruins of the structures suggested that. Even carbon dating places their age at 4000 years, we learnt. All through the time we were in Bet Dwarka we felt we were living in that era, passing through the small lanes, cows claiming equal rights, waylaying our paths, and the inhabitants donning clothes a la BR Chopra's Mahabharat.

The next day we set about for Somnath temple (to be continued...).

A fun-filled trip of guessing games, anecdotes, and what have you, came to a grinding halt when our Innova stopped at the hotel we had booked. The “Mumbai' group, consisting of Ashutosh, Ruchi, their two charming daughters, and Ashu's mother, landed at the same second thanks to Siva and Ashu's spacecraft-docking-precision coordination.

The meeting of the two groups was no less joyous than Ram-Bharat milap, making onlookers guess we were meeting after ages. Siva was happy having met his marathon-, badminton-, cricket-, and man-for-all-seasons friend Ashu; Prashanti, of Ruchi; and the entire group welcoming the addition of a third front, of kids, to the senior and middle-aged teams.

We arrived long before our check-in time. Nonetheless, as one experiences in hotels in small towns and cities, the management made temporary arrangements for us to freshen up before we could undertake the visit for which the group had come all the way – the Dwarakadeesh temple.

Name any place, and chances are Dr Murali Krishna has a contact person. And so he had one in Dwaraka too, as in Jamnagar. He had telephoned his friend in advance to depute a reliable priest who combined the qualities of knowledge of the sthala puran and not relieve us of our pockets in toto.

Soft-spoken, mild mannered, the young priest, in his early thirties, negotiated us gently through the crowd at the Dwaraka temple, explaining at each point its importance.

Dwaraka is one of the seven holy places in India, along with Kashi, Mathura, Puri, Kanchi, Avantika, and Ayodhya. It is one of the char dhams that Adi Sankaracharya established: Jyotirmath, Dwaraka, Puri and Sringeri.

We had the best possible darshan of Dwarakadeesh for more minutes than we could hope for, thanks to the priest's deft handling. The highlight of his briefing was that we had entered through the Moksha dwar and exited through the Swarg dwar although ideally one should have done the other way round.

Siva picked one of the professional photographers hanging around. He took a group photo with the temple as the background. For a change everyone felt happy at his/her pose.

Back to hotel, the driver confided in us that our hotel might not be the best in comforts, but matchless in food. It was evident, for we had to take our turn, but it was worth waiting for. We ordered Punjabi thali, and the appetite pepped up the taste.

We then left for Nageshwara temple about which I gave an account in my last post, out of turn, thanks to a mix up in the route.

Our next destination was Bet Dwaraka. It is a tiny island the top of which houses the abode of Sri Krishna. One has to sail by boat for about twenty-five minutes. The boats were run by private bodies and hence until the boat was full – or, rather overfull – the anchor won't be released. Consequently we felt insecure both when we stepped into it which was shaky, and while sailing through to the destination jam-packed, literally breathing on the next person's shoulders. As you came out of it, you felt you had been granted a fresh lease of life.

At Bet Dwaraka one could safely vouch for the historical calculation that Mahabharata took place about 5200 years ago. The near-ruins of the structures suggested that. Even carbon dating places their age at 4000 years, we learnt. All through the time we were in Bet Dwarka we felt we were living in that era, passing through the small lanes, cows claiming equal rights, waylaying our paths, and the inhabitants donning clothes a la BR Chopra's Mahabharat.

The next day we set about for Somnath temple (to be continued...).

Dwaraka Trip: Jamnagar, Bhandini sarees and Temple Tours (Chapter 3 of 5)

Dwaraka Trip: Jamnagar, Bhandini sarees and Temple Tours
(Chapter 3 of 5)

We made an abortive attempt at buying Bhandini sarees from Jamnagar (the nerve-centre for such sarees), more because we entered the market when most shops had closed, or were in the process. But we did kneel into a shop that had almost lowered the shutter to deny fresh entries but had kept it open partially for the customers inside to leave.

From the few twisted sarees that the salesman flung at us in quick succession before he could hurry back home, we could not visualize how the sarees would look when treated or polished. “We wish Prashanti were here,” we murmured. She was slightly unwell and wanted fully up to the temple-portions of the tour commencing the next morning. So she decided to call it a day and rest in the hotel.

“We should not leave Jamnagar empty handed; must buy something,” pronounced Siva. “In that case,” interrupted Haider Ali, the driver, “I shall take you to the famous farsan (snacks) bhandaar; and drove us to Jain Vijay Farsan. We selected items that are typically Gujarati. What stands out of our visit to the shop was the liberal free samples they forced on us before buying.

The highlight of our Jamnagar visit, however, was being part of an Akhand Bhajan that we learn had been going on uninterrupted since 1932 or even earlier. During the time we were in, a 90-year old was at the helm singing with gusto. A remarkable feat indeed.

Bidding farewell to Jamnagar, we headed to Nageswara temple, the 12^th of the twelve Jyotir Lingas. The three-hour stretch in an Innova van was rendered less arduous thanks the soft-spoken Ganesh (?) at the wheel, and us playing the ’20 questions’ game. One person would mentally identify a well-known person in any field. The rest would fire 20 questions at him/her for response in yes or no before they guess the right person. In almost all cases we arrived at the right answers. These included: Archrekar (Tendulkar’s coach), Vijay Amritraj, Potti Sri Ramulu, and Dr Zakir Hussain (educationist, minister, and later President). However in two instances the 20 questions led us nowhere. The answers were M.S. Swaminathan, the famous agricultural scientist, and Shahnaz Husain, the beautician. After the first game, at Ganesh’s request we changed the medium of communication to Hindi so that he could be part of it, which he did with his own limitations, but drew applause for his participation.

“That Gopuram that you see on your right,” Ganesh interjected as we were still in the thick of our question-answer session, “is Nageswara temple.” We heaved a sigh of relief as we saw not a big crowd. But as we parked the vehicle, left our slippers behind and walked to the entrance, there was a sudden spurt of visitors, like a flash flood.

We stood in the queue for about thirty minutes before we got a fleeting glance of the deity, as in Tirupati or Guruvayoor. But Siva recalled the briefing Ganesh had given us earlier, went to a nearby counter and bought Abhishekam tickets. The three male members, Dr Murali Krishna, Siva and I, went to a room earmarked, picked a dhoti at random, tied and went to the sanctum sanctorum. The security chaps stopped us promptly, and sent us back to the room to wear just dhoti, and not over the pant. We did that and sat right in front of the deity, touching it, for about 7 to 10 minutes doing Gangajal abhishekam. It looked as though some celebrities were getting special darshan. The ladies watched us from a raised platform about 25 yards away where the statue of Nandi stood guard to God. We met them over there after being in “Kailash” for a while. Nandi attracted no less attention. We saw several devotees whispering something into his ears - some almost holding a telephone conversation. We were told that one could express one’s wish to him, and it would be fulfilled. We didn’t want to be left behind. Each one of us whispered into his ears. I still can’t reckon what I had asked for - “Lokah Samastha Sukhino Bhavanthu,” maybe.

As we came out of the Exit gate with a victorious look having had a one-to-one meeting with the Lord, we saw that the crowd had dissipated, and one could walk straight up to the permitted area unhindered. We didn’t allow the new situation, however, to dilute the privilege that we just had. We learnt later that the crowd or the absence of it depended on the busloads of pilgrims that make it at a given point in time.

It was photograph session thereafter under a banyan tree – some clicking their professional cameras, while others make-do with their cell phones.

With a fully satisfied feeling we headed for Dwaraka. (To be continued.)

Dwaraka Trip: from Ahmedabad to Jamnagar (Chapter 2 of 5)

Dwaraka Trip:  from Ahmedabad to Jamnagar

(Chapter 2 of 5)

The train from Muzaffarpur (Bihar) to Porbandar in which we had booked, was late by two hours. That gave us time to have breakfast at the station. Siva and Prashanti did a hurried pre-investment survey, and returned identifying one stall, and sent us in batches, so that someone would guard our earthly belongings.

A word about Ahmedabad. Visiting the place after a gap of more than15 years, we saw ample evidence of the much acclaimed “Vibrant” Gujarat. It was just not vibrant, a mild earthquake. We stayed in Hotel Ginger, a Tata enterprise. By international standards it would be a grade above any budget hotel and, by Indian standards, an entry-level luxury hotel. It was unanimously agreed that we would book in the same hotel on our way back.

A few minutes before the train was to arrive we heard an unclear announcement in the public address system that raised our doubts if it was arriving in another platform. The duo porters who earlier transported our suitcases from car to the platform, felt happy at an additional income, and hastened to tell us of the change in platform. We engaged them to help us with loading and unloading once again. The train had already arrived in the platform before the porters reached with luggage, adding to our anxiety. 

Then it was the usual hullabaloo one witnesses in any mid-way station – passengers trying to alight, others to board, and the cleaning staff surging ahead of both to finish their task, all at the same time. We saw Siva composed that most of us were devoid of.

Everything was settled and a mutual arrangement was made with co-passengers for us all to sit together in one cubicle, and offering equally the other small family seats close to one other in one row. Comfortably seated, say it with sweets, everyone said. Thus we set about our six-hour travel stuffed with sweets that each group had brought into the already full stomach. But then train journeys are occasions to break free from normal eating regimen.

Prashanti unearthed two sets of playing cards from her luggage, as Siva converted the well between the seats into a table with suitcases. Siva announced that the winner would treat everyone with breakfast the next morning. “In that case no one would be keen to win,” I quipped.

What started off as ‘time-pass’ acquired world championship characteristics with each racing against the other. In between, an order was placed on the vendor for special masala tea with tender ginger, elaichi, and what have you. To go with it someone opened the knick-knack that she had brought. Hardly had the game finished, when we realized that Jamnagar was only a station away.

You must be wondering who in the end was the winner and the loser. Handsdown Siva was the winner when I touched first the prescribed 200 negative points to be declared the loser. Siva modified his statement slightly to say that the loser should offer breakfast to the others. With voice decible gaining upper hand, I had to give in. Fortunately the next morning’s breakfast was complimentary in the hotel we stayed. Escaped unhurt.

On arrival in Jamnagar, Dr Seth, an old colleague of Dr Murali Krishna, Prashanti’s father, received us. Decades ago, the two had worked together as food technologists in a firm in Panipat until they parted ways. He had brought two cars to transport us to the hotel, and invited us for dinner. Barring Prashanti’s parents, the rest of us excused ourselves to permit us visit temples and do some shopping.

Jamnagar has certain distinct features. It is the nerve centre of Bandhini sarees. For ages the Birlas have their famous Digjam suiting factory. Dhirubhai Ambani had set up Asia’s largest petroleum refinery. The Essar group also has their refinery side by side. Consequently, the city has two types of hotels – the high-end or the low end ones – nothing in between. So we had booked the high-end one. More than enjoying the luxury, we were busy watching India-Pakistan nail-biting T20 that night.

The next morning, after a sumptuous breakfast, we got ready to leave for Nageswara – the 12^th of the 12 Jyotir linga temples. The beginning of the pilgrimage.

(To be continued…)

Dwaraka Trip: Combining Pleasure with Pilgrimage (Chapter 1 of 5)

Dwaraka Trip: Combining Pleasure with Pilgrimage
(Chapter 1 of 5)

When Siva and Prashanti (B-702) asked us, out of the blue, if we would join them for a weeklong trip to Ahmedabad, Jamnagar, Nageswar, Somnath, Veraval, etc., I flatly declined. After all, no senior with a sense of propriety would wish to be a spoilsport tagging along with a young couple for the entire duration of their vacation.

“No uncle and aunty, my parents from Hyderabad will join us,” hastened Prashanti. “My mother too,” added Siva. Again I wriggled out, for who would disturb a perfect family re-union where exclusivity is the name of the game.

“UNCLE, not just that, Ashutosh, Ruchi and kids (B-701) will also be with us, as will Ashu’s mother be from Delhi,” emphasizded Siva raising his voice a little, guessing by then that I was the stumbling block for B-703 joining the bandwagon.

“Yes, we will,” I said, before the Lady of the House could say so, as I side-glanced her rushing from the kitchen.

With an itinerary worked out meticulously by Siva and Ashutosh, it was decided that Prashanti’s parents and Siva’s mother would fly from Hyderabad, and Siva, Prashanti, and the two of us would from Bangalore and meet at Ahmedabad.

Ashutosh, Ruchi and kids would leave for Mumbai a few days earlier to be with Ashutosh’s friends, and his mother would join them from Delhi.

The confluence of the two groups would take place at Dwaraka, one of the favourite abodes of Lord Krishna. I deliberately use the term one of the… lest any Srishti-ite from Mathura should raise an objection.

It always augurs well to start with a bang. And so did we, in Ahmedabad. Siva had google-searched one of the finest restaurants for dinner where they recreated a village ambiance - a side pillow to recline on a coir cot, have a sip of lemon juice with bon-fire helping you stay warm from the nightly cold, enjoy the mutka dance with incredible speed, culminating into a balancing act on sharp steel or glass objects. Then their turbaned man in the typical Gujarati attire sporting a liberal moustache (one that you get to see at the doorstep in any five-star hotel ushering guests) escorts you to a dinner area. Again another typical village setting that you love to be in. Then follows a deluge of dishes for you to try out, so much so that the very sight fills your belly.

Fortunately everyone had come prepared to have a go at them, setting aside temporarily one’s health constraints. But in the end, I bet no one could vouch that he/she tried all the items. To sum up, each one helped the other to get up and walk up to the area where, once again too many varieties of suparis, mukhwaas, digestives and paan were served with gay abandon.

The result? Each one felt there would be a casualty or two during the night to hamper the next early morning train journey to Jamnagar. Fortunately, the pattar-hazams and lakkad-hazams served post-dinner (digestives that are capable of assimilating stones and wood) did their job well. Everyone reported at the lobby on time to head for the railway station.

Rail journey to Jamnagar (to be continued).

Community Living at Srishti Apts Complex

COMMUNITY LIVING AT SRISHTI APTS COMPLEX

Once again Srishti-ites spent an evening together to bid farewell to 2012 and usher in the New Year 2013. 

Well attended, the residents were in for a variety of home-made foods - steaming hot tomato soup, Idli, Sambar, Khara bathk, bonda, carrot halwa, kesari bath,  gulab jamun, varieties of rice, dahi bhalla, samosa,  Pav Bhaji, sandwiches, baked products, and chilled ice cream that sold like ‘hot cakes’. 

However, the first to display the ‘Sold Out’ placard was the duo Kalyani-Visweswaran. “Could it be, Visweswaran, you brought limited quantities?” we asked. “No way. We brought 70 idlies,” he retorted. Kalyani attributed the response to the quality of the product while Visweswran contested it was his sales acumen.  Anyway, looks like back home this argument should take the couple hopefully till mid-January to settle, with my friend ultimately Visweswaran giving in, if my personal experience is anything to go by.

Aside, one spotted Srinivasan ji calling it a day with a bag in each hand accommodating the empty vessels, and a clinking box of cash delicately balanced under the arm.

As the residents did justice to the dishes at various counters in the order they had mentally outlined, the Tanishq Jewellery representatives busied themselves convincing everyone to join their gold savings scheme; simultaneously a resident cum staff member of Reliance Time Out walked around handing special discount coupons and inviting all to the Cunningham Road shop.

Nothing works on an empty stomach. So once the belly’s requirements were met it was time for invocation – on course by the one and only Surekha, this time unaccompanied by her inseparable partner, Gita.

Bollywood dance by the talented Srishti children followed. Then it was distribution of prizes won at the recently held Sports Day. It was a close call whether those who won prizes were more than those who did not. But it was a happy occasion and everyone joined the merriment.

With everyone wishing one another a Happy and Prosperous 2013 at the stroke of midnight, the gathering dispersed.

Long live the community living spirit in Srishti.

V.V. Sundaram

Bangalore

02 Jan. 2013