Trip to Kudajadri
Robert frost’s typical poem usually begins in delight and ends in wisdom. Perhaps so is the trip to kudajaadri hills.There is a momentary stay stuck in between heaven and earth. And in the end we attain wisdom. We started from Kollur, from mother’s lap in a Mahindra jeep early in the morning. After a while we had three minutes halt at Nagodi. Bhaskaran, the driver got into his jeep. Bhaskaran’s jeep swayed like Garuda. Along the rutty potholed road Bhaskaran holds his gaze that never disengages until the jeep is stopped or only after he had seen another jeep driver. He greets the other driver as if he hasn’t seen him for a long time. Really it is to convey his hidden fear instilled by the dangerous driving session. There sat just married couple on the front seat swinging. They hit against each other. Her south canarian ethnic face was radiant with the natural glow of washed away turmeric paste. With the smell of arecanut flower spike they were thrown against each other. They resembled shiva and shakthi. She could have stretched her hand, rung the ancient bronze temple bell and rotated herself clockwise reverently in a classical dance style in front of her mother Mookambika. As we were passing along the mountain ridge we were lost in the mist I could see saraswathys mystique smile at Saraswathy mandapam. “ya kundendu thushaara haara dhavala”
The drive up had been fabulous with rivulets and hillocks. Each a glance and gone forever! As we glanced through the grass carpeted hillocks with mist and flakes of white clouds we feel that we discovered a new world that was lost within us. “The most profound and most beautiful emotion is the sensation of the mystical”. We encounter the mysticism at our own depth.
Bhaskaran halts his Mahindra jeep in front of Kaalabhairava, at the foot of Kudajadri hills. It took more than one hour to reach there. The iron pillar or the iron man has been there from the time immemorial, surprisingly with no trace of rust. At the right is the temple of Uma with the pond Kamandalu theertham below. Bhatts offer poojas, the sacred springs Shanku theertham, Naaga theertham, Gouri theertham and Kamandalu theertham always run towards their mother Uma. When we look forward things shown softly in the sun which was wonder fully mystique on living, world seemed to be awe inspiring place, were nothing else would happen.
As we mount up the grass carpeted hillocks………
we see dark Cholakkurinjis bloomed conjuring up dark violet of the devils hair, the devil that killed by her.
“Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance” Their fresh scent and cold soft lives reminded of the morning time and sunshine. The sky overhead throbbed and was pulled with light. The sunlight lost its heat, entrancing sunlight………………… Ancient dragon flies flew scattered. The air was charged with the perfume.
Suddenly we see the lonely granite structure Sankarapeedam like a silent soldier who braves the passage of time. It is the place were Sankaraachaarya himself immersed in the awareness of reality. It is so called because at this holy place many ancient rishies had performed many yaghnams.We feel the envelope of infinity here. Shankara when he unheard the alluring anklet jingling he was tempted to turn back.the agreement was violated.We get the glorious view of Mookambika from Shankarapeedam.
When we turn to western side we see steep slope………………
1500m ending in the deep forests of Ambavanam.
When we descend along the mountain trail boardered with Cholakkurinji blooms. The woods are silent and still. The clouds dim the intensity of light.in the dimness of the light all trees glisten black as if they had hidden dark snakes. The green things on the earth seemed to have appeared with optimum greenness. Keats would have described the place substituting his Ellyn marbles………..
“Though unravished bride of quietness,
Foster child of silence”
With great care one can come down to Chithramoola. It’s really a steep going down.
At last we reach at the foot of the cave a gaping opening between gigantic rocks. The common belief is that water came sprouted miraculously to serve Aadi Sankaracharya, when he was meditating in the cave.
MT Vasudevan nairs Vaanaprasdham unfolds a story of reunion at the backdrop of kudajaadri hills. A 61 year old teacher and his old beloved disciple Vinodini in the late autumn rejuvenate their relationship spending one night at Kudajaadri hills. Their unfulfilled maiden dreams are recreated evoking Edenic innocent touch. Millions of blind children experience their mother without seeing them! We attain the peaceful and trance like state of the heaven as these blind children experience the warmth of their mother.