DAY 6: Alarm call to prayers The sound of the helicopter gun ship hovering above my head was having no effect on me last night, as I dropped off fairly quickly and slept well, in fact it was not counting sheep that helped me drop off, it was the amount of teeth in the tailors mouth. That's how quickly I fell asleep. But daybreak comes around so soon, and I woke to the sound of some lunatic chanting Indian pop songs in the distance. I got up to investigate, only to find that it was the early morning call to prayers from the local Muslim temple. I swear that people don't sleep in India; they just take catnaps in order to keep them going! Eight hours constitutes a weeks sleep, not a night for a lot of these people. I was up now, so I made my way up to the flat roof of the building hoping that I could take some sunrise pictures, as I imagined it would be a spectacular sight as it rose over the Temple opposite. After climbing the two flights of stairs I found I was not alone up there, besides me there were a couple of hotel workers who were not there for the sunrise, they were laid out on old mattresses and covered with a sheet, still sound asleep. Obviously it was a live in job they had! I tried to be as quite as possible so as not to wake them as I started to take some pictures. The sunrise was not what you would call a spectacular sunrise, the day just got bright as the sun was partly obscured by cloud. I gave up on this idea after about 10 minutes waiting for the right shot, as I turned to put my camera away I noticed that one of the people who had been asleep was now gone, bed roll and all! I never heard a thing. Back in the room I made for the balcony to see the Elephant arrive at 6.30 for his breakfast, only to be told by Nick that he had already been! Oh! I see. That was well worth getting up for; still I could always do it again tomorrow� It's always nice to get up early, just ask Nick who finds it hard to sleep beyond six. I don't mind getting up early for a reason, but it's such a shame that you feel like sh*t for a couple of hours. "The Hindu" is the name of the morning newspaper usually delivered to the hotel room each morning, and to all intents and purposes looks just like "the Times", the only thing that's different is the reporting style. I was reading the paper in bed this morning when one headline in particular caught me attention, it read something like "Immolation on the increase in Tamil Nadu" are you wondering what Immolation means? because I was. Apparently it's when you set fire to yourself or someone else. The article was about how a woman had set fire to herself. It also went on about a group of young male students who had also threatened to set fire to themselves if they did not change some policy or other in local Government, and the thing that really got me was they actually meant it. This paper was a great read first thing in the morning and something both Nick and I did for the novelty factor. The reporters wrote in such a way so as to use every obscure and alternative word they could, and while they may have been totally correct all the time, they were certainly entertaining. One of the short reports also made me smile, it read as follows: SURPRISE CHECK "In a surprise check in the Mangalore Mail today, about 350 unreserved passengers were found travelling in reserved coaches. They were all disembarked. While about 100 of them were let off after they paid a fine, the others were detained. The check followed complaints received from reserved passengers that unauthorised persons got into reserved compartments causing inconvenience to them. The check was conducted by a team of 200 railway personnel led by the Chennai Divisional Manager, M.S. Jayanath. A total fine of Rs. 25,000 was realised". If you have ever travelled by train in India, or seen pictures of it, you would really appreciate the humour in this article. Most trains don't have 350 seats seats, reserved or otherwise. And the way it reads I could imagine these 350 who were found travelling in reserved coaches sitting on other peoples laps, on the luggage racks, under the seats, hanging on the side and so on. I would have loved to have been there to witness the chaos that surely must have ensued, especially with two hundred railway workers also boarding the train. Breakfast was this morning taken in the hotel restaurant and consisted of nothing more exciting than coffee, toast and jam, simply because we were not really feeling up to anything else. The guidebook mentions the nice open-air part of the restaurant situated in the pleasant open courtyard, I think this should read open air restaurant situated in the car park. To sit outside was to take your life in your own hands with the amount of cars coming and going all the time, not to mention the odd elephant that allegedly came by for breakfast. The Restaurant interior was bright and spacious and probably looked bigger than it really was, especially as we were the only people in there. The d�cor was bright and clean, and painted on the walls over each recessed table were some really nice rural village scenes; the seating was also comfortable and spacious. All in all it was not a bad place to eat, and the bonus was that it was air-conditioned. The system for ordering food here was complex, but not as silly as it may have seemed at first. The way it worked was that your order was taken by one waiter, delivered by another, and then a third presented the bill when you had finished. I just hope they all shared the tip between them. When we had finished our meal the dishes were then cleared away by a little boy of around 7 or 8 years old, he reminded me of the little boy who cleared the dishes in the Schindia hotel in Varanasi. He had the same torn and ragged food stained shirt and shorts and was wearing no footwear, but still he managed to make you smile with his infectiously cheeky little grin. And to top it all, he was very meticulous about his work, making sure not to leave a single crumb on the table as he cleaned, he simply wiped them all straight onto the floor instead. The man behind the reception desk back at the hotel was very matter of fact with his reply when we asked about train tickets. "Where do you want to go to?" he asked almost non-committal. "We want to book tickets to Trivandrum" "When do you want to go?" "Tomorrow please" we replied, "Give me 500 rupees deposit, and your tickets will be here tonight!" We gave over the money without any further questions and left it to him to sort out for us. We could have gone to the station ourselves and saved a little money, but preferred someone else to queue up for what could be hours, hey what the heck, we were on holiday. The Sri Meenakshi Temple was to be the first place we would visit today, and we caught a rickshaw instead of walking, not because it was a long way, more because we were just feeling bloody lazy, we could have walked there in less than fifteen minutes. The driver dropped us at the main entrance, which was already quite busy with people coming and going. This was the week when Hindus were celebrating the marriage of the Deity Meenakshi to Shiva, or something like that. There were a lot of people walking around in yellow robes with their heads shaven and covered in a golden yellow powder, which was obviously something to do with the celebrations. It was only nano seconds before we were picked up by a tubby little man in a blue button down shirt and lungi (wrap round skirt worn by men). He went to great lengths to assure us that he was not a tout, nor was he a guide; he would just show us around the temple. We also went to great lengths to tell him we did not want to be shown around, and would rather explore at our own leisure. "OK I will show you where to buy your ticket for using a camera", which he did, then disappeared, only to keep popping up every time we looked the least little bit lost, or confused. To be fair to him he was not a pain in the arse, and was as helpful as anyone could be. We entered the complex via the Ashta Shakti Mandapam located on the South East side, which is the most popular entrance, although you can enter on any of the four sides. As temples are sacred places you are not allowed to enter them wearing shoes, and as such, are expected to leave them outside until you return. We left our footwear with the shoe minder, who for a small fee will make sure you have some footwear to come back to, even if sometimes it might not be your own. Around this entrance there were quite a few beggars who are constantly being moved on, but return just as soon as their tormentors have gone. One old lady in particular, who looked around seventy years old was waiting patiently for us to deposit our shoes, knowing then that we would enter the temple meant she could latch onto us. I gave her some money, not simply because she asked, more because she really looked like she could use some. Her body was very frail looking, her face was gaunt and her mouth was devoid of any teeth, and her yellow sari was no more than a rag covering her bones, and just barely her modesty. The Temple itself is really something to see with its twelve Gopurams ranging in size from small to dammed enormous. These Gopurams which can be found in temples all over the South of India are made up of hundreds, sometimes thousands, of intricately carved mythical animals and Deities, resplendent in colour and shape they are very eye catching. It is believed that they will ward off evil and protect the Deity and Temple. The Sri Meenakshi Temple complex is like a small city within a city, with traders of every description pedalling there wares along the corridors, and recesses. Most notably you will find here tailors, florists and sellers of religious nick knacks, not to mention the odd beggar or two. It did not seem right to me that this most sacred place was no more than a covered market place, but at least the traders were only allowed in this certain area and no one was taking to much notice of them, or them of any one else, except that is for Nick and I who were invited to look at everything that was on sale, and we were being offered very reasonable prices, or at least that's what they told us. Nick was looking for some beads, but not these cheap imitations as he called them that were on sale here, he wanted proper prayer beads, which are something like worry beads, and must have exactly one hundred and eight beads. There is some significance to the number of beads, but don't ask me what it is. We walked around taking in the sights such as the Golden Lotus Tank; this is where devotees bathe daily in the sacred waters it is said to hold. There was also the hall of a thousand pillars; Dravidian temples are renown for having these columned halls. Whether there was a thousand pillars I don't know, and I certainly wasn't going to count them, but needless to say there was a hell of a lot of them. The main shrine here is the Meenakshi situated in the inner sanctum and entry is only allowed to Hindus, and as we were not going to pass as being of this belief could not enter. In fact Nick was telling me that this is about the only religion you cannot convert to. You can only be born into this religion, so you either are, or your not, it's as simple as that. Our Little man in the blue shirt was popping up and explaining many of the things as we went round, I asked where the Temple elephant was kept and he took us straight to where we could find one. The attraction of the elephant, apart from it's role in the processions was to hold your hand out with some money, the elephant would then pick this up with it's trunk and give it to his keeper, who is known as a Mahout. The Elephant then touches your head with its trunk as a form of blessing. Nick did this with a little trepidation so that I might take a picture. I had given a little boy some sweets and a few rupees as we walked round; he was another one of those kids with an infectious smile. He obviously liked the sweets as he kept coming back for more, and by the way things were going he was not going to stop until he'd had the whole packet. Luckily for me and unluckily for him, the sweets ran out after about half an hour, and that was the last we saw of him. Blue shirt popped up again as we left by the same entrance, again he started to talk to us about this and that as we all had a smoke sitting just outside the main gate. He was barefoot and did not have any shoes to pick up from the shoe minder, both Nick and I looked at each other as he calmly put out his cigarette on the sole of his foot. I suppose he had been walking barefoot for so long his soles were now as hard as leather! He asked us if we would like to view the Temple complex from above, "yeah sure" we said, knowing exactly what was coming next. We had read about this scam to get people into an emporium in the Lonely planet Guidebook, but we wanted to see the aerial view and did not mind this man getting his commission for taking us there. The Emporium was just across the road from the Temple entrance, and we were shown into the lift to take us to the roof. Once on the roof there was another short flight of steps that took us to the viewing platform, where we took a few pictures, but it really needed to be a lot higher to get a good overall view of the Temple complex. Now this is where the scam kicks in, because you can't use the lift to return to the ground floor, instead you are obliged to use the stairs which just happen to take you through four floors of carpets, silks, furniture, Indian handicrafts, e.t.c. It's the price you pay for a free Ariel view of the Temple. They would be better off charging people to use this facility, as they certainly got nothing from us in the way of sales, but we would probably have paid for the elevated views. We had our usual complimentary cup of tea as we looked around for twenty minutes or so trying to look interested, without being over interested, then said our thanks before getting out sharpish. It had been hot this morning, and both of us were feeling a bit jaded when we returned to the hotel around eleven a.m. The man behind the reception called us over to inform us that our train tickets were there to pick up, and we would have to pay a further 500 rupees. Obviously there had not been that much of a queue at the station, or he knew how to get them without having to queue. The price for the two tickets read 929 rupees, and showed that we were booked on the only train that departs daily for Trivandrum in the first class AC coaches. The cost for getting someone else to sort out these tickets had been 71 rupees, which is only just over one pound, and worth every penny to save the inevitable hassle you get at the railway stations. We sat in the foyer and ordered a pot of coffee, which when it arrived was cold! The waiter went to take only the pot away; I had to point out that the two cups were also filled with cold coffee. He smiled a bit sheepishly realising his mistake, and that was the last we saw of him for fifteen minutes, while I suppose he was waiting for a pot to boil somewhere. Another siesta was called for; so after our coffees we returned to the room for a couple of hours, after which we resurfaced just about ready to take up the challenge again. Smiler was sat outside in his rickshaw as we came out of the hotel; as soon as he saw us he was out and by our sides quicker than any of the other drivers. This boy would have given the American athlete Carl Lewis a good run for his money, especially as he was sprinting in his flip-flops. As we had already used his services the day before and been happy with him, we gave him the job of again ferrying us around for the afternoon, much to the annoyance and disappointment of the other couple of drivers who were offering their services. "Can you take us around to see the sights?" we asked smiler inquiringly; he shook his head with a big grin to accompany this strange acknowledgement. Rickshaw drivers are always more than pleased to run you around for a few hours seeing the sights, and hopefully visiting a few emporiums. Considering that the average fare they could expect to pick up from a local would be around 10 rupees, the thought of earning around 300 rupees for a afternoons work must have be quite pleasing. If you get a driver who can speak a bit of English, all the better, as this is a good way to see everything and avoid a lot of the pitfalls you might otherwise encounter. Our first port of call this afternoon was the Tirumalai Palace, an Indo-Saracenic construction built in 1636 by the Ruler Tirumalai Nayak. The Palace is merely a shell today, but still worth seeing, because as soon you enter you can appreciate its former splendour. There is an open courtyard where the sun streams down, this is approx 75metres by 55metres, with rows of seats that are used by spectators who throng to the evening sound and light show held there, sadly, this by all accounts is not much of a show. The courtyard is flanked on all four sides by huge pillars that run the length and breadth, and were, I imagine, the main support for the now not so splendid roof. It looked as if some work had recently been done with a few of the pillars looking a lot cleaner than others. Nick liked this Palace, as there was plenty of fine stonework for him to appreciate. A tout was working outside with a good line in getting people to visit his employer's emporium. He introduced himself as working for the local tourist board, and asked us our opinion on the city, and how we felt about things. Then he invited us to a local culture exhibition that was being held all day locally, and was completely free to tourists. Having gone to great lengths to assure us that it was not a scam to get us to go into a shop, he gave us the address of a local Emporium that was housing this exhibition above it's premises. "Yeah right" We thanked him and made a mental note not to fall for that one, should anyone come out with it again. Most of these street hustlers and taxi drivers would not dream of doing you any harm, they are simply trying to get you to visit such and such Emporium, or, hotel. They in turn then receive baksheesh from the owners of these establishments, which is no skin off my nose, and I say good luck to them, but! You can really only look in so many shops, and you can only take so much home in your rucksack. The people who run these places try to sell you anything and everything including dining tables and chairs, three-ton stone statues, 30 feet carpets e.t.c. And they really come on strong with the hard sell, so much so that after a few visits to the various different shops you get so worn down, and really just don't want to go into these establishments. If they would only just let you browse around at your own pace, they would more than likely make a sale, but even then you have to go through the whole negotiating process, while also being fun at first, this can again wear you down. It seems that almost every Emporium is Government approved and run by people of Kashmiri origin, why I don't know, but it is definitely the way it seems. When you enter these shops the first thing you will notice is that there are at least five or six of these well dressed, and well spoken men just sitting around in a group, they are like coiled cobra's waiting for you to enter. Then if you so much as look at anything, they are on you in a flash, explaining how it was made, where it was made, how good the quality is, and of course what exceptional value it is, even though it currently carries a price sticker that shows at least twice what they are prepared to accept for it. They also go the great lengths to explain that they will accept all major credit cards, cheques, any foreign currency, beer mats, green shield stamps, your mother in law, anything of any worth will do in a trade. And then they stress they will even arrange to ship the larger goods to your home address, just so long as you are prepared to pay the freight costs. I don't think it is a good idea to hand over your credit card to strangers in strange places, I may be wrong, but my credit card stays firmly in my wallet until absolutely needed. One salesman tried to sell me a collection of women's antique gold dress ware for around �30,000! Now if you could see what I look like when walking around on holiday, you would think that it would be hard for me to afford the price of a good meal, never mind these vast sums of money. They generally ask you a few personal questions like, which country are you from? What job you do for a living? e.t.c. This is not a genuine interest in you, it just helps them build up a profile on how much they think you are able, or willing to spend. As I have said before, Nick likes all this banter and treats it as a challenge as well as a bit of fun, especially when he takes on the carpet salesmen who don't have half the knowledge he does, where as I just get pissed off with it all, and very quickly. I would honestly rather give the taxi driver's some extra money just to avoid going anywhere near these places, but should you mention this to a driver he will claim that he gets some ridiculous sum of money just for taking you there. If you tell the driver you don't want to go to a shop he will then plead that he only gets a pittance for taking you there! You really are in a no win situation, as on the one hand you feel that if you don't go the driver who is usually a decent chap will lose out, and if you do go, you will be the one who loses out. Maybe not in money terms, but simply in the time this takes out of your day. And one more thing that really pisses me off is that I am paying the driver to show me the sights, not the shops, which, I am quite capable of finding myself, and would ask to go to if I so wanted. But, as they say, it's all part of the game, and one you find yourself getting involved in, whether you want to play or not. Smiler asked if we wanted to go to this emporium cum local exhibition that the tout had spoken to us about, shaking his head furiously as he did so. "No thank you, just take us to another place that isn't a shop" we laughed. Nick suggested we return to the Taj restaurant for a spot of lunch, so off we headed back to Town Hall road. "I don't bloody believe it," I said to Nick as we stepped out of the rickshaw. There he was, smiling as broadly as ever, probably even more than normal. How the Silver tout had spotted us in a crowded main road with loads of rickshaws running up and down is beyond me, but here he was larger than life greeting us, and of course wanting to take us to his shop! "We are going to eat something first" we said, hoping to get rid of him. "Ok, I'll wait here for you then we go to my shop?" There was no getting away from him, so we agreed that we would go just as soon as we had eaten. He of course checked on us from time to time as we ate, but a little more discreetly this time. Silver tout was sitting in the rickshaw with smiler when we came out of the restaurant; there really was no getting away from him. We all piled into the rickshaw and headed for his shop; smiler did not need directions and knew exactly where to go. The shop we went to was only a few hundred metres from the entrance to the Sri Meenakshi Temple, and thankfully for us not the Emporium we had been in earlier that morning. The shop was not on such a grand scale, with only a couple of people working there, but everything else was just the same with the usual array of carpets, silks, jewellery e.t.c. The shop owner was nowhere near as pushy as we had previously experienced, giving us time to look around before offering his services. Nick bought a couple of little things after some serious negotiating, and I also bought some ethnic silver earrings, again after having to haggle hard. In the end it was all a painless experience, probably because the man in the shop knew we would buy something, if he left to our own devices. Silver tout who was waiting outside in the rickshaw was all smiles when we returned clutching shopping bags; this was a clear indicator to him that he was in for some commission. As we climbed into the rickshaw he asked how much we had spent, and I for my sins went for the killer blow. I told him that I had spent twenty thousand rupees. His eyes lit up at the thought of his commission from this sale, and then he was gone like the wind. As we drove off I could not help wondering what his commission would really be from a sale of only five hundred rupees! Next stop was the Mariammam Teppakkulam Tank. Which is situated a couple of kilometres to the east of the city centre. This place is a vast sunken tank in an area that was originally a place where people would bathe, and do their washing. It is the size of at least three or four acres and is connected to the Vaigai river by a series of underground channels through which the tank is filled with water, making it about the biggest bloody open air swimming pool you would ever be likely to see. There is also an annual festival held here known as the "Teppam Festival" when people take up the whole area. Roads run all around the four sides of this tank making it look from a distance like a Temple sticking up from the middle massive roundabout. According to what I have read about this place, it is very rarely filled with water and is used mostly by kids who play cricket on the rutted grass clumped earth that forms its base. There was no shortage of ad hoc cricket matches taking place as we walked down the steep steps and across the vast open space towards the centre of the tank. Here there is a raised platform housing a Gopuram of about 30 feet on top of a Temple like building. Climbing the red and white chequered steps to the temple we found a lot of local down and outs, and a few courting couples who were lazing about in the shade of the few trees scattered around, and well out of the way of prying eyes. Now we were there intruding on their little secluded hide away, and all eyes were now directed our way viewing us with suspicion. The people who had been laying around with not a care in the world now raised themselves up to give us the once over, then just as quickly decided we were not going to be a threat to them, and returned to their previous state of semi consciousness, or whispering of sweet nothings into their partners ears. Even the kids who had been playing cricket intently only a few seconds ago were now more interested in us, they came running to see if we had anything for them, or just to get a closer look for the novelty value. We just had a quick walk around, and took a few pictures before making our way back to the rickshaw and our nodding driver. Smiler suggested we go to the Sri Meenakshi Temple, but having already been there in the morning we did not want to go back, at least not this soon. "Ok we go to the Tiruparankundram Temple 10 km out of town?" Was his next suggestion? I did not really fancy another Temple, but thought the ride to the outskirts South of the city might be worth seeing. Nick was easy about it all, and as he likes riding around in rickshaws was happy enough to sit back and take in the views. Decisions are made mostly out of necessity, will I, won't I, shall I, shan't I, do I need to, and is it worth it? E.t.c. We made this decision to go to the Tiruparankundram Temple out of pure boredom, as with nothing else to do we felt it would pass in a couple of hours, if nothing else. To say we were not that bothered about going, we were both very happy that we had in the end. The drive out to the Tiruparankundram Temple was the familiar mix of heavy pollution in even heavier traffic, interspersed with some marvellous sights and sounds that make up the recipe mix that is India. Tiruparankundram Temple is cut into the rock and stands at the end of a long road that leads up from the main road, giving the whole place the feeling of a small town. At the entrance to the town pilgrims are expected to take off their footwear, as the whole area surrounding the Temple is considered sacred. We left our footwear with smiler in the rickshaw. The Sadhu's (holy men) dressed in their orange robes were soon on us looking for donations, and were more than happy to have their pictures taken, unlike some previous Sadhu's we had met who were only happy with large donations, these men were grateful for whatever they were given. One young man who was dressed in the orange robes associated with the holly men was very keen to have his picture taken, he was also keen on anything else we had to offer including a cigarette which he lit up, but he was obviously not a smoker as he started to cough and splutter like a car that has not been started for years. It made me smile, but I had to refrain from laughing, as it was very clear that he was a little bit simple, and yet totally inoffensive to anyone. We stood on the steps of the Temple taking in the scene around us, there were thousands of people coming and going from the temple in a steady stream in all directions. This Temple is very popular with pilgrims, attracting devotees from all over India. Outside the main entrance was a massive chariot, built over 200 years ago standing at least twenty metres high with it's wooden carved Gopuram, this is used as mobile Temple in processions, where it is pulled by hundreds of male devotees around the surrounding areas. "This way please" said the little man who was stood next us; he was showing us where to purchase a ticket to take pictures inside the Temple. After we got the ticket he said, "follow me please" and so we did, for a few seconds at least, then the penny dropped! He was not an official who we assumed was instructing us on how we should enter the temple, and where to purchase the camera ticket. He was a guide who thought we were gullible tourists who were going to let him show us around the Temple complex. He was right. Nick and I asked him if he was a guide, and he replied that he was not really a guide, but very knowledgeable about the Temple and would show us around, stressing that he could show us places where people were not normally allowed. Oh! What the heck, we thought it would make a change to have a "not really" guide, as we had been turning down the guides so far, preferring to find things out for ourselves. For what it cost's you, half the time you are better off letting someone show and explain everything to you, as they are generally very knowledgeable and informative. He was a pleasant little man aged about sixty I would say by the look of him. With a small frame he could have weighed no more than seven or eight stone, his silver grey slicked back hair covering his gaunt facial features, a pencil moustache was resting above a mouth that contained just a couple of heavily stained teeth. I was wondering if he had a brother who was a tailor making shirts in Town Hall road? He certainly bore a striking resemblance, in more ways than one. I'm almost sure the little old guide did tell us his name, but for the life of me I can't remember what it was, and my notebook does not mention it either, so from now on I'll just have to call him the Log, short for little old guide. The Tiruparankundram Temple is one of the six abodes of Murugan and houses a school for young Brahmins (priests). As we entered the temple a man painted a tikka marking on our foreheads, and then gave us some small red pellets that we were to throw at a statue of a deity standing a few feet away, this would bring us good luck, and him a few rupees. The temple itself was more or less what you would expect from a building carved out of rock, it was a little gloomy and very cool. There were various icons all over the place, being idolised by holy men and pilgrims in prayer wherever you looked Log asked us if we would like to see the young Brahmins in their school, which is not open to the public. Pulling open a massive wooden door, which must have been at least fifteen feet high and weighing at least a ton he instructed us to follow him. Beyond the door was a small open courtyard with small recesses where there were young Brahmins sitting on the stone floors reading scriptures. When they saw us enter they were up and around us in a flash, asking us questions and posing for pictures. I gave out all the pens I had in my camera bag at the time. Most of the boys were aged around eleven or twelve and were dressed in just a lungi, with their feet and chests bared and their foreheads covered in tikka markings. All of the boys were happy to talk to us and showed us to the compound where the camels used in processions were housed. In the compound was a huge palm tree that was being climbed skilfully by one of the boys who was using a large knife to cut, and then throw down leaves for the camels to chew on. Log must have known the camels quite well as he allowed one of them to lick his face as a greeting, it was either that or he was getting his hair slicked back with camel spit on the cheap. Next we saw the Temple Elephant, who was doing a roaring trade dispensing blessings with its trunk. From here we went to the large water tank where pilgrims bathe in the spiritually cleansing waters. The inner sanctum of the Temple was strictly for Hindu's, but this did not stop us from entering as Log instructed us to follow him. He spoke to the young man controlling entry to this dark and gloomy part of the Temple that was chiselled out of rock. We followed as instructed, albeit a little apprehensively. Mind blowing! That's the only way to describe this inner sanctum. If you have ever seen the film Midnight Express, you may remember the scene where all the lunatics are walking round and round a well worn path in a circle, they are in a dark and dingy stone walled room, and the air is heavy with smoke. Well that is what this place reminded me of. There were pilgrims shuffling around in orderly queues as they passed by the various icons, and then through a small gate to a stone passageway where the holy men were sat giving out blessings. The air was heavy with the smell and smoke from burning incense and candles, the place was absolutely crowded, but the noise level was almost silent. It was like a surreal dream, with these almost ghost like pilgrims shuffling back and forward murmuring their mantras in the dimly lit haze. I stood by a priest who was dispensing milk from a large bucket into smaller containers being offered up by a large crowd of pilgrims, the milk having come from the Temples sacred cow. Nick and Log went on the shuffle walk past the Holy men, I declined to do this feeling a little uneasy and not quite right about the whole thing. That's not to say I did not enjoy the experience, because I did, albeit in a strange way, but it all just felt so unreal. Nick said that he had thought it was a great experience when he returned covered in more ash tikka, which the holy men had smeared on his forehead. The Holy men had even taken time out from blessing everyone in a mater of fact way to talk to Nick, this he found to have given him a good feeling in some way. As we were making our way from the inner sanctum the exit was being guarded by two policemen, Log asked that we should give them each a little money. I gave them 20 rupees, which they tucked into their breast pockets quickly, thanked us and let us pass with a smile and half salute. The next palm to grease was the young man who had let us in originally; the same thanks seemed to be appropriate for him. Log took us back to the complex entrance where we thanked him for his excellent tour, without him we would surely never have experienced what we had. He seemed to be very happy with the money we gave him, and thanked us in return for our generosity. The same Sadhu's who had tapped us up on our way into the complex, thought they would try their luck again on our way out. Their luck was in again! as we were now spiritually lifted people, temporarily anyway. We gave them a few more rupees and quickly headed back to Smiler and the rickshaw, with the Sadhu's still following, and the posse getting bigger by the yard. "Back to our hotel please" we instructed Smiler the rickshaw driver, he shook his head and smiled like only he could as he pulled the rickshaw away from the kerb. A storm was brewing as we travelled back to the hotel, but this did nothing to dampen our spirits. Both Nick and I had enjoyed this Temple visit, Nick I think for the spiritual side, and I felt that I had got some good images on film. A nothing kind of day had been transformed by a decision made from boredom, and then a little old guide with bad teeth and a liking for kissing camels. It was around six thirty when we got back to our hotel, Smiler was very happy with the four hundred rupees we gave him for his services. It was around seven as we left the hotel again after a quick shower. We went back to the restaurant we had used at lunchtime, but the meal was not that good this time, although I suppose for the money we paid, it really wasn't that bad. People were gathering in their thousands when we came out of the restaurant, thankfully not to see us, they were gathering to see the procession from the Temple, which was due to pass by shortly. We took up a position on the junction where the procession to celebrate Shiva's wedding was due to pass. At the head of the procession was a man leading a bullock that had been covered in a ceremonial robe, closely followed by a large group of devotees leading a large Elephant also decked out in ceremonial garb. Then came three camels dressed up to look a million dollars, they were in front of men who were carrying images of the various Deities covered in flowers, and lit up with electric lights similar to Christmas tree lights. I was wondering if the little old guide was somewhere in the crowd checking out the camels as they passed by. As we made our way back to the hotel we heard a familiar voice, thankfully it wasn't the Silver Tout, it was the shirt tailor who insisted we should have some more shirts made. "No thank you" we told him as firmly and politely as we could. "Ok" he said, " as you are my friends I will give them to you at a cheaper price!" "No thank you" And so it went on for a few minutes before the tailor cracked a smile on his sad looking face and trudged away, leaving us to feel sorry for him. Back at the hotel our doorbell rings and on opening the door we find we now have two room boys who can't do enough for us!, I blame Nick for giving them large tips all the time. The new room boy asks if we need anything in the room?, "Not at the moment, thank you" I tell him, he just stands there looking at me. The room boy with the bad eyes then pipes up, he wants to know if we require a pot of coffee delivered at six in the morning? "No thanks we're having a lay in, but we will have a pot now before we go to bed". He goes away happy and the other one still just stands there looking blank! |