Category: Chapter 4

After a 12 hour train journey to Nasik, where I was fortunate to sit with a wonderful family who fed me all the way, I arrived in the city, the location where one of the darkest chapters of the Ramayana occurred.

A great many places in Nasik claim to be the location where certain events in the Ramayana happened, so I figured if I visited all of them, I might, with some luck, stumble upon the right ones.

I started off walking into Naroshankar Mandir, mistaking it for somewhere else. It was quiet so I decided to sit down inside. I chose a small perch as my seat, but after I had sat down I heard a rustleing. Again it continued, and worrying that I had sat near some mice, I leapt up. I checked and nothing was there. Just as I began to wonder what it was, two birds flew out from a nest above my head. In my worry I had assumed I was sitting by mice, without any thought that it could be birds. I guess worrying stopped me from seeing things as they were.

 

Next I visited the Kalaram Mandir. Famed as it houses icons of Rama, Sita and Lakshmana in only black, hence its name, the Mandir is one of the most visited in Nasik. Unable to take photos due to restrictions, I walked in, wondering what the place marking such dark events would have in store for me. I was immediately struck by its sombre feel. It’s quiet was piercing, and it is strangely enough the first place on my trip that triggered feelings of pain as I sat down in the Mandir.

I moved on to Sita Gupha, supposedly the cave where Lakshmana took Sita, while Rama fought the 14,000 demons. Its location is marked with five banyan trees, said to give the area Panchavati its name.

I was less sure whether these trees really were around at the time or whether it was that exact cave that housed Sita, but trying to immerse myself in the story, I transported myself to the Ramayana, imaging all the events occuring as the story has been told.

I proceeded to see a small icon of Ravana at the spot where he was said to have taken Sita. Reading the Ramayana as frequently as I have been and doing the Trail meant I could not help but feel a shiver down my spine as I did. I laughed to myself at how real the story felt in that moment.

Continuing, I reached Tapovan, a word made up from two roots, tapas and vana, or spiritual practice and forest. It was said that this was the spot where Lakshmana did his tapas. Perhaps sensing his devotion, this space granted me a comfort that the others did not.

My first day in Nasik was a strange one. I had thought that each place I visited would only grant me more satisfaction, as I became more familiar with travelling, and more involved in the Trail. But Nasik did not give me that initially. I was filled with those feelings that were with me in Ayodhya, an uneasiness.

However, I think if this trip has taught me anything, it is that these feelings may recur, and they may never fully disappear. But, I know I can deal with them in whatever form they take.

With this in mind, not wishing to sit in my room with only worry as my company, I ventured out to Ramkund. Another spot frequented by Rama, it is also the hub of the mela, whenever it is in Nasik. All around me I saw colour, the air was filled with laughter and the Kund with life. I sat listening to music, appreciating all the joy that everyone around me exuded. I very quickly forgot about anything I was going through. In fact, I may go as far as to say that those moments, just sitting by the water, were some of the happiest of this trip.

Fulfilled after watching the sunset, I purchased a pleasingly sized dairy milk, and ambled home after an eye-opening day.

On my second day in Nasik, I decided to venture 30km out to Trimbakeshwar. Although not featured in the Ramayana, It is the location where one of the four drops of nectar fell from heaven, onto earth. The other three being Allahabad, Haridwar and Ujjain, the locations of the Kumba Mela. It is also one of the twelve jyotirlings in India.

I knew a rickshaw would not take me the 30km, and I knew a taxi would be expensive, so asking my hotel, I was informed that I could take a bus which ran every 30 minutes and would take me straight there, for the unbeatable price of 30 rupees, or about 40p. Deciding the bus would be an experience, I opted to take it. In the morning my ride was quite pleasant. I had a seat, it was not too hot and I enjoyed the novelty of being on an Indian bus for what I think was the first time.

The surroundings of the temple were beautiful. A montainous backdrop, hosting an enchanting village, it felt as though the area had soaked up the energy the temple seemed to exude. Inside the temple, the security was, as always, frustrating, with cages lining the way, and guards keen to push you through to keep the queue moving, but the space itself brought a calm, that most places like this seem to.

The village of Trimbak was where I had decided to get some food. I entered a small restaurant and had chai, roti smothered with ghee and subzi. The restaurant was small and unpretentious, and the food was wonderful. It is amazing how it takes only the simplest of things to fill me with happiness, and I felt as though as I could have just sat in that restaurant for hours, soaking up all around me.

I wondered why I had not had this feeling before. Maybe it was the fact that I was just getting used to India, realising that I did not have to be in a familiar environment to be at ‘home’. Maybe I began to realise that home is not really one specific place, it is just where I felt most comfortable, and as long as I felt comfortable in myself, home could be anywhere. Maybe it was just that the food was really good.

Returning back, after an hour or so of daydreaming in the restaurant with a full stomach, I again took the bus. Getting on was itself a struggle. The famous ‘every man for himself’ notion was clear to see, with as many people forcing their way onto the bus as possible. There was an elderly lady next to me, and despite the fierce contest to get onto the bus, I couldn’t bring myself to push in front of her. However, just as I was about to move out of the way, she pushed me aside, probably sensing that my hesitation had left enough time for her to get on. It was not personal of course, or at least I hope not, just another day in India. She then dutifully climbed the stairs onto the bus. All I could do was laugh to myself, before beginning the crowded, hot, stuffy journey back.

I went to see the Pandavleni caves on my last full day in Nasik, and driving past the mountains around me that were talked of in the Ramayana made me think that maybe parts of the story really did happen here.

The caves themselves contained many intricate carvings in the stone walls, and are of Buddhist origins. The caves also had a wonderful echo to them, you can imagine me having fun testing this out, but also a few eerie dark chambers that although are empty, seemed to be filled with something strange.

 

After visiting the caves I stopped by in an Indian McDonald’s, and my visit happened to coincide with the 4th day of the second test match between India and Australia. It had been a sublime match and this session would determine its outcome. India needed 7 wickets, and Australia 150 runs. Everyone in McDonald’s perched themselves by the TV watching closely, cheering or groaning at each delivery played. Even the staff, as they went about their work, tried to position themselves closer to the TV so they could glance the action.

There were frequent power cuts at the time, and every time the power went off the restaurant would erupt in sighs, only silenced when the TV came back on. Soon, wickets quickly fell and in the air could be felt an Indian victory. Satisfied the job was done, people started to leave, and the staff returned to work. It was a wonderful scene.

Despite this cheery chapter, walking home I could not help but feel like my stay in Nasik was missing something. Pondering what this could be, I continued back.

After spending a few hours hiding from the heat of the sun, I received a call. In Khajuraho, Ishan had told me he would put me in contact with his friend Mangesh, who was living in Nasik, and it was this Mangesh who was calling me. We had a wonderful conversation where he told me of some more sites I could visit that I would enjoy. One of them was Kapaleshwar Mandir, and this was one of my favourite places in Nasik.

Mangesh then came to visit me in the evening, and I was again reminded of how much of a difference being in good company can make. After some stories about Nasik, he told me that if I wanted, he could pick me up in the morning and take me to a place believed to be the birthplace of Hanuman, before heading to the train station. He told me it was not very well known about, as there are other places which also claim this title, but I went to sleep that night feeling grateful and amazed that I could have missed seeing such a place, but I was not going to.

My train was at 11am that morning, which gave me a few hours before to get to the Hanuman Mandir, located just in front of Anjanaya Hill, named after Hanuman’s mother.

Mangesh picked me up and took me on a beautiful drive to the temple, where I again found myself surrounded by the mountains, the sun and blue skies.

We arrived in the quiet. It was away from the built up areas of Nasik, and climbing up the stairs I could already tell I was going to enjoy the space inside.

I walked in, rang the bell above my head, and looked ahead to see an enourmous statue of Hanuman, which was at least four or five metres tall. Hanuman was painted in an orange so vibrant it seemed to fill the whole room with colour. It was still early in the morning so the sun shone on Hanuman through the gateway to the temple and brought even more life to the space. All of this and the Hanuman Chalisa that was playing in the background created an environment that only places dedicated to Hanuman can.

I descended the stairs, glad I had been brought to such a place.

The next stop was meant to be the station, but checking the train timing on my phone, I realised it was going to be late. I am still blown away that via my phone, I can check the location of any train at any time of the day throughout India and find its location with an impressive level of accuracy.

Mangesh laughed and told me that sometimes train delays can be a blessing in disguise, and with the extra time on our hands, he took me to eat. It was a large outdoor restaurant that served only one dish and one dessert. Misal Pav, local to Maharashtra, and Jalebi, fried in gur. As you can probably imagine for a place that seems to thrive serving only a few dishes, the meal was excellent, and if you have been reading my blogs or if you know me, you will by now know that if I have good food I am happy.

In this frame of mind, I was taken to the station by Mangesh and I thanked him for looking after me as he had. It was wonderful meeting him.

That feeling that my visit to Nasik was missing something, disappeared, and feeling fulfilled, I boarded my train to Mumbai.