Reach for the Sky, Pilgrim
This is the seventh entry from my 2004 India blog
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Having successfully landed in a convenient if slightly filthy Hotel Sumeru in the town of Palitana, where Pilgrims on their way to Shatrunjaya overnight, I had packed everything the night before in anticipation of my trip to the temple. I was supposed to meet the families at Rajendra Bhavan, a kind of nerve center for pilgrims, at 5 a.m. Having already noted that the group was a always a little slower than the time set (what’s referred to as Indian Stretchable Time) I thought that getting there on time would assure me in not being left behind.
Sure enough, I got to the center at close to five, I think: it was hard to know the exact time, because I had been instructed not to wear a watch. Other requirements of taking the trip as a pilgrim: dress well, as in wearing slacks and a collared shirt; I could not bring any tobacco; I could not drink any water or eat any food along the journey, and in fact they asked that I fast until the pilgrimage was over; I could only bring 200 Rupees on the trip, and finally, my shoes and any leather products would have to be left behind before entering the Temple complex at the top. Most of these things were obvious aspect of the Jain belief system: to be humble in appearance, to endure physical test in order to have karma erased, and to show complete respect for all things on earth. The Jains are vegetarian, in fact, because as Jitendra explained while we were eating a Thali the day before, “Food is God,” and therefore should not be wasted (clean up that plate, Tim) and no suffering should come from anything in order to make your meal. This extends to not eating onions and garlic– for they are unearthed in order to be eaten, and do not just offer themselves to be eaten.
Jainism, by the way is a contemporary religion to Buddhism, having arisen around the same time, and incorporating some of the same tenants, including reincarnation, karma, and spiritual embetterment through meditation. The are also highly ethical people of a strict moral code, including always telling the truth, and never conceiving of or committing violence on any living thing. In society, they are known as clever, money-conscious merchants who have amassed large fortunes and use their earnings to create magnificent temples that will much assure their passage into Heaven. At least this is what I understand at this point. I honestly had the experience before I had the knowledge, so I’m still catching up on this one.
Since the family had not yet arrived when I got there, I had time to gather my thoughts and try to fully take in what was happening. There was a highly invigorating raga jam being played within the Rajendra Bhavan, and since I knew I was unable to enter the Center without another Jain, I stood near the entrance to listen. A guard, who had been watching me closely, now kindly offered a folding chair that I could use while I waited. The raga was fervent and sensuous, with a clarinet- sounding instrument playing a lyrical line over the complex polyrhythms. I also saw scores of pilgrims heading towards the mountain in the darkened streets, and music seemed to be urging them on. All of them were barefoot, and many of them carried large walking sticks for the ascent.
In no time, my party arrived. After gathering everyone at various hotels in the near vicinity, there we were, ten of us walking along a dirt road towards the first temple to initiate the path that was over three thousand steps in length.
They were:
Mahendra and Vimla Salecha, Pappu’s mother and father,
Rahul Salecha, a.k.a “Pappu,”
Dinash Jain
Mahaveer, Rahul, and Akash Jain, sons of Rakesh Jain
Paras Mal Jain, I believe Rakesh’s brother, also called “BidiMan” by the young ones because of his dependency on Bidi cigarettes,
and Jintendra Katariya
Like the Hindus, the Jains have their holiest temples situated on top of a tall hill or a mountain: the metaphor being that attaining God in your life is no easy process- therefore, the metaphorical journey should be likewise difficult.
I approached the first Temple with trepidation, because I was certainly the only westerner there, and I knew that I needed to stay close to the family to avoid reflecting badly on them. After all, it took some guts for them to bring me along in the first place; I certainly wasn’t about to bring them dishonor. Pappu grabbed me by the hand and took me close to the deity– after staring at the formless mass ringed with roses and other flowers for about fifteen seconds, I was told I should not be there, and had to exit immediately. Pappu, who was a bit of a trickser anyway, said that he would be happy to take any pictures of the deities for many enemies. I did not condone this behavior, since ultimately the photos would be in the possession of a non-believer, but then again, I didn’t erase them from my memory card either!
After the first temple, we all stopped on the initial step of the journey and said a quick prayer, which I don’t yet have a written record of (hopefully at some point.) While we were doing this, I noticed a scale on the first landing that would be my introduction into possible most intense wallah-job ever: The dholi-wallahs would actually carry fat and rich pilgrims in a sling-seat up either the entire or a significant portion of the hill! The scale was to determine the weight of the sometime hefty pilgrims and assess whether they needed two or four dholi-wallahs to lug ‘em up to see god. I snickered a little while thinking about the small amount of humiliation that must be endured to actually weight yourself before you go up– probably a thought process that irrecovably damaged my karma score card.
You could see those hard-workin’ dhobis crashed out at the top of the hill, panting heavily and drinking water by the handful. A couple of days doing that , and it might be looking like any of them might see god sooner that any of us!
The guide book says the ascent should take about an hour and a half to complete at a leisurely pace. Because we wanted to catch the sunrise from the temples, we made it up in 45 minutes, practically running most of the way. Even though we did not quite reach our goal, we still had a stunning initiation of our day from a smaller temple not ten minutes from the main complex. It was there that I took a wonderful shot of all them, serene and exhausted, with the hilltop temple as a backdrop. It’s a moment I’ll remember always.
As soon as we reached the top, and passed through the victory arches ( this was called “Place of Victory,” after all), I was barked at rather sternly by some officials. “Take off your shoes,” Wash your feet and hands,” “Get a camera permit,” (non-jains were allowed in the complex, just not normally that early in the morning), and finally, in a softer tone, “Rest yourself for ten minutes before going into the main temple.”
This was not a problem– I was drained, my shirt soaked through with perspiration. I could finally take water, and duly pulled a liter out of my day bag– before I could take one single sip, a pilgrim in a humble green Sari who I did not know approached and stood in front of me silently, longingly eying my bottle. I offered a drink to her, and she smiled warmly. She took a big drink and handed the bottle back. Pappu came to see me, and asked if I knew her, acting incredulously towards my conduct. “You don’t even know her!” But who knows? Why should I deny her a drink because I don’t know her– might she be a incarnation of God sent to test me? After all, it was strange, straightforward behavior atypical for a woman in India. After that point, she regarded me warmly as we saw each other in the complex. She was always alone, never with family, another odd detail. It still makes me think. I just hope I passed the test.
Next came the ritual aspects of the trip– circumambulation around three temples, including the main temple, Shri Adishwara; recitation of sacred verses, which everyone was supposed to recite, including me (which I failed miserably in doing by the way, but they seemed forgiving, and it in fact seemed to inject a bit of humor during an otherwise very somber ritual); prostrating ourselves in front of the different Gods and evoking the memory of tirthankars, who were the original 24 teachers of the faith.
Our group had big singers– they initiated songs at each temple, and often others would join in. The songs were lilting, and heartfelt– I’m always surprised by the emotional intensity of religious fervor. I’d been rightly placed with a musical group!
We also drew blessed rice from a sacred bag and applied our handful to a cross-shaped arrangement of piles– in this, it seems like we were combining our powers and strengthening our bond as a family. The piles were later combined and a swastika was formed from the pile, thus creating a good-luck ritual as the gods looked down approvingly.
The whole process took about an hour and a half, and I have to admit at times I sat there lost in the ritual. But the thankfulness I felt, and the spectacle of being there amongst the thousand of pilgrims and the monks, and the Gods, was something that will never leave me, I’m certain.
After taking my obligatory photo opps in the seemingly infinite variations of beautiful angles of the scores of temples on the hill, we finally began the long journey back home. We arrived back at the foot of the mountain at 11am, and went as a family to eat at a local restaurant– a mixture of grains, roasted peanuts, and pomengranates, called Bhel, was served, as was Sugar Cane juice and water. Refreshed, I returned to my motel room, took a shower, and slept solidly for four hours.
It was the last I saw of the pilgrims in Palitana, but we have agreed to see each other again in Mumbai during one of my two visits back there before I go. What can I say? I felt after this one, I could go home happily, having seen inside a world not normally encountered by outsiders. To experience this type of spiritual and cultural insight is the holy grail for the traveling set, but I don’t just consider it a feather in my traveler’s hat– it was and is a life changing dance with the infinite.