TRAVELLING DOWN AND OUT (Part 2)

Madikkeri was our next major destination. The idea of locating the source of Kaveri River in the neighbouring state of Karnataka fascinated me and others joined. The location was just sixteen kilometers from Madikkeri, recristened as Mercara by the British. We reached the town on the Christmas Eve. As we sat on the cement chairs of the specially built podium of the Municipal Garden, we were given to understand that it was the place where King Lingaraj used to watch the killings of people condemned to death.

He built a special purpose garden atop a cliff and the convicts were just thrown down so that their lives were snuffed out in a relatively quick and effortless way. Surprisingly, the cruelty of man against man failed to elicit a response from me. I had had enough of the palaces, inner chambers, forts, armories and escape routes of erstwhile kings.

As we stepped out of the Municipal Park, Ganesh encircled us with his rickety auto rickshaw. His eyes showed definite signs of intoxication. The face belonged to a drug-addict. Nonetheless, it also possessed elements of goodness. The vibes were not at all repulsive. We were squeezed into his kattara gadi and the contraption protested a bit, but that didn’t stop Ganesh from speeding at full steam ahead. We sat on the knife-edge for the next fifteen minutes and found ourselves in front of a huge building atop another hill. 

Originally built as a fort by King Lingaraj,

the state government had turned it into a Civil Station housing various departments and there was a jail at the ground level with police camp attached. The sentry posted at the main gate was nowhere in sight which gave us free access into the Civil Station part of the fort. Ganesh lead us to a point by the side of the front wall from where we had a bird's eye-view of the jail down below. It was Christmas Eve and almost all of the inmates were seen at the open space between buildings. They were being given extra free time as bonus on account of the special occasion. Some were busy taking bath. I cranked my neck to get a better sight and in the process a policeman spotted us. Luckily Ganesh was familiar to him. The very next action of Ganesh was to envelope a tiny stone with a ten-rupee note and to chuck it down. The cop was annoyed after checking the wrapper and made his displeasure known. However, a deal was struck. A young man appeared from inside and waved his hands vigorously at us.

He is Anand, my best friend, Ganeesh said.

He committed a murder.

The flashback.

Anand, the eldest son is of a large family is beset with troubles. Unemployment, sickness and poverty chase his family like hunting dogs. Cut-throat moneylenders arrive at the scene and hook their prey into inescapable debt traps. The house is pledged and as expected, the ownership changes hands in due course. Anand picks up a row with the Shylock, insults are hurled on him and the fraca culminates in murder.

Ganesh repeated the stone-wrapping act and another tenner got transferred, this time for his friend. Ganesh took us to the hotel and declined to accept any money for the additional ride.

We strolled through the roads at night. The town was celebrating Christmas. The massive church located approximately at the center of the town was illuminated and a live band was in attendance. Nobody was dancing. The ambience was that of serenity. People, young and old, were walking slowly towards the altar. Lighted candles were given as offerings and they prayed. Some on their knees. Others with folded hands, standing. Some wore tilaks on their foreheads made of sandalwood paste. Tamilians, Malayalees, Maharashtrians and Gujaratis…. all of them united in prayer. A quiet Christmas sank the differences between them.

Next morning we set out by bus for Thalakkaveri, the originating point of Kaveri river. We could see only a pond. We were told that Kaveri did a vanishing act to resurface at Bhagamandala four kilometers away.

A small hill ahead of the pond invited us to have a go and we climbed three hundred odd feet to reach the top of the world. We were already in the sky. We could see the curvature of the Earth. It was an ethereal sight which filled us with humility.

Years later I embarked on a voyage to Minicoy Island through the Arabian Sea. I was alone. The infinite expanse of water placed under the skies had an enigma associated with it. One is closest to nature in a voyage as in the case of a journey through the forests. There is an advantage too for a voyage, the rigors of trekking is done away with. One can sit back and feel the Nature. I was aboard an old passenger ship named Bharatseema traveling in the Southwest direction from Kochi. As the shoreline was getting disappeared, an unknown fear gripped me. A coast guard vessel was escorting us through the buoys for some time and we slowly attained speed. We were in the high seas and I found it slightly difficult to walk. There was certain heaviness. The strides were not easy. The sight of water flowing past the deck was magical. An urge formed inside me to take a sudden leap into the sea. I got frightened. The sun was leaning towards the west. The little waves reflected off its countless replicas and the whole sea turned silver. I waited for the sunset. A lifetime opportunity of watching the setting sun from the open sea. The sight was so intense that I closed my eyes. My body was still and I felt the touch of the ocean. I didn’t feel like opening my eyes.

The next morning I woke up early. The sunrise should never be missed. I reached the quarterdeck and fixed myself against the eastern sky. At the end of my gaze, the first rays of light brightened the East giving hope and zest to all. The red disc was emerging in all its glory. Again, I was going to close my eyes. I didn’t know whether I slipped into meditation. Perhaps not. Where is the end-point of a journey? Can it happen before reaching your destination?


Anyway, I didn’t need to set out for anymore travels. I was convinced.