A unforgettable moment in God’s Own Country
It was the last leg of our Kerala trip before we headed back to New Delhi. After exploring the exquisite tea gardens of Munnar, lounging in a houseboat in the backwaters of Alleppey and strolling through the Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary we found ourselves in the capital of ‘Gods Own Country’ Thiruvananthapuram.
As we travelled on the bustling roads the lush vegetation and fresh air of the countryside were abruptly replaced by the stench of exhaust and a thrumming metropolitan.
Weary from our journey and turned off by the raucous crowd and traffic jam, we decided to visit the spiritual heart of the city Padmanabhaswamy Temple dedicated to Lord Vishnu. This temple is highly revered among Hindus and is among the most sacred Vishnu temples in the country. In the inner sanctum the primary deity reclines on a five hooded serpent and is made up of more than 12,000 sacred stones collected from the Gandaki River in Nepal.
At the entrance of the temple we were greeted by Rajan, an old friend of ours, who had volunteered to show us around. An ardent devotee and a frequent visitor he was well-versed with the layout of the massive structure and took us via a shorter route, away from the never-ending queues. Dressed in traditional attire we entered the temple, the cacophony of the street market fading to a lull behind us. We were entranced by the interiors, which were adorned with dazzling murals and images of Lord Vishnu and various other Hindu deities.
Our friend and guide Rajan led the way as we walked along a broad corridor consisting of sculptured granite stone pillars decorated with beautiful carvings. After a series of quick conversations in the local dialect with some vigorous head nodding, he ushered us into the VIP line right in front of the inner sanctum. I gasped inwardly as I realized we had skipped the endless waiting lines and were only moments away from beholding the deity. Finally, the large ornate doors opened and we were ushered into the sacred inner sanctum by a priest adorned in a traditional orange garb.
As we silently filed into the room it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The only sources of light were traditional oil lamps, which decorated the entire room from top to bottom. The flames danced gracefully and cast flitting shadows across the entire chamber. We all stood there in silence, the anticipation slowly rising until I could almost taste it. And then as if on cue, the priests started chanting hymns and ringing bells vigorously, singing praises of the Lord. Their voices oscillated in perfect harmony, rising and falling as they praised His valor and compassion for all living beings. As their voices reached a crescendo the doors opened! I was stunned to realize there was not one, but three doors, each offering a different view of the deity. The first one showed the head and chest, the second one His hands and the third one the feet.
The priests carried out the rituals in religious harmony and fervor, the air vibrating with the force of their rendition. My eyes started to water as the devotion of their words hit me, my mouth agape as I watched the ceremony unfold before me. Then as unexpectedly as it started it was over, and before we knew it we were being ushered out of the room into the open. I started as the cool evening air hit me sharply and shook my head to break myself from the spell. I turned to look towards my family and saw identical looks of amazement etched upon their faces. I wanted to ask them how it was, what did they think of it. Yet, we all just stood there in silence, savoring the moment and reveling in the experience we had just had. It had lasted only a few minutes but would undoubtedly stay with us for a lifetime.
