Tirukalikundrum – The Eagle Temple
The Road to Arunachula: Shiva’s Holy Mountain
Lila – God’s play. All seemed to be arranged to leave Mamallapuram – 11:00 taxi drive to Trivandrum, the city at the foot of the holy mountain, Arunachala. Alas, the taxi arrives, a tiny contraption that will barely squeeze the three of us in … without luggage. Much to the consternation of the taxi driver who had turned down another hire, we hired another taxi. We were quite clear that we needed a large taxi when requesting service and all was left on reasonably good terms once the taxi driver saw our four large suitcases and four adult bodies. Our new taxi driver was a gem. We were told that someone had read his astrology and said he was a tiger in a previous life. Indeed, there was something very tiger-like in his features, flashing eyes, and graceful way of walking, though his manner was gentle, happy, and protective of us. He was extremely agreeable and allowed us to stop at Tirukalikundrum, The Eagle Temple, mid-way in our journey.
Tirukalikundrum is a Pallava temple, similar in age to the ones we had just visited. It is perched high on a large hill/mountain and it is said that eagles had once flown there daily f;rom the Ganges River, uniting that sacred river to the temple. It is a temple sacred to Shiva. One enters at the bottom on the mountain, leaving one’s shoes with the keeper there. Tourists pay a substantially larger fee (fair enough) and one can purchase fruit and flowers if one wants to make an offering, which we did not. Once one leaves the gate, one climbs long, steep stairways straight up the side of the mountain. The stairs could be quite hot and we were all cultivating the little bits of shade next to the walls. We happened to come at noon, which was the time for a major ceremony at the Temple. Several pilgrims had come with offerings (perhaps 30 or so, not too many) of flowers, and flowers were left at various points along the way – wherever the mood struck a pilgrim it seems. One sleeping dog, basking on the steps just below the temple, also received a little offering of flowers. Very sweet. The temple rose ahead, its walls striped in red and white. There was a balcony to the right just before the temple where priests would chant the Vedas, but now it was empty. As we approached the final steps to the temple, pilgrims were lined on either side of the doorway, singing chants and saying prayers and blessings for us as we passed by. They were all so happy, and it was quite transporting to here these beautiful chants at the door of a temple perched so high above the world. The temple itself was a simple structure, very, very old, with an antechamber with windows overlooking the countryside. One then ascended a few steps into the inner sanctum. When entering a Hindu temple, one should go clockwise around the center structure that houses the main deity. Often, there are subsidiary and related deities flanking this inner sanctum. Halfway around is the doorway into the main sanctuary. My husband, however, had already gone inside and directed me in the opposite direction to a beautiful shrine of Parvati, the wife and consort of Shiva. The statue was immensely old and beautifully decorated with flowers and offerings. The priest was sitting outside – a young man who had studied the Vedas for five years and had been an active priest of one. I found the whole ambience of this temple to be powerful, and there was something of the feel of the eagle’s perch, a place that called to Eagle People. I felt very much at home here, high on the mountain, soaring in the air. As I moved around the temple, older priests were just finishing a ceremony inside. I was able to see the Shiva lingum inside, just as the priests were finishing their ceremony and before the curtains were drawn over it, hiding its presence from mankind. The priest said this particular deity was 14,000 years old. Did he mean 1400? That would put in with the Pallava dynasty – or is it much, much older, which would also be a possibility. As we left the temple, Eleanor said a white bird of prey soaring above her head. Perhaps the eagles had not abandoned their abode after all! A white eagle at the Eagle Temple – a taste of home.
Things are so very old here. Even the mountains are old. As we continued to Tiruvanamalai, we passed some old, old mountains. One compares the Rockies with the Appalachia Mountains and sees a contrast of young and old mountains. The Rockies, still growing, have massive outcroppings or rock piercing the sky. The Appalachians are smooth, maternal, gentle, green covered. These mountains were older still. The mountain was laid bare. There were no trees, and instead of a solid rock, it was as if some giant had collected boulders of enormous size and piled them up. The whole mountain was fissured and eroding, slowly, slowly returning back to the surface. But it had not always been so, for one could see the remains of Pallava temples and fortresses dotting the mountain tops, abandoned for a thousand years and perhaps unvisited for many years past.
It was at this point that our driver made Patrick’s day and allowed him to drive the taxi. I decided to not look, and he did very well, tooting the horn and going around pedestrians, bullocks, autorickshaws, bicycles, and avoiding larger taxis and busses. He certainly understood where he was on the transportation pecking order. At one point, we passed a highway patrol man. Our taxi driver did a swift intake of breath, hoping we would not get pulled over (driving without a license), though he assured us that a 250Rs fee would take care of any inconvenience. Fortunately, the policeman did not notice the driver, and, several minutes later, Patrick returned the wheel back to the taxi driver. We were all a bit relieved, but it was kind of him to appeal to Patrick’s youthful adventure – a kindred spirit.
We approached Arunachula Mountain from the east and I was struck at how similar it was to Bear Butte, a mountain in South Dakota sacred to the Lakota and Cheyenne Indians. It rose out of the flat plain, much like Bear Butte, and its whole structure looked exactly like a larger version of Bear Butte. It is interesting that two such mountains, both so sacred, both so similar exist. I wondered if there was some sort of geographical symmetry – probably not. Still, after the Eagle Temple, there was that continued feeling of coming home.
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