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.
