Out of the frying pan, and into Madurai.

The answer to this post.

Now we are blessed with heavy rains (& power cuts) every evening, but a week ago, Mysore was the brightest and the hottest it had ever been. It was agonizing to sit in class after lunch, drafting with our necks and shoulders bent and our foreheads dotted with sweat, while the fan spun rapidly over our heads to little effect.

The Good Friday – Easter weekend soon comes along, and while most people chose to stay at home, or travel to the nearby hill stations to cool off, I made my way to the hotter part of the country for the sole purpose of visiting the famous Meenakshi Amman temple whose plan and features I had memorized from PowerPoint presentations in my first year of college, and whose gopurams I had seen off rooftops of countless Tamil movies.

During my short stay, I observed only a tiny portion of Madurai, mainly the streets that surround the temple complex and maybe a little beyond that, but I discovered it to be a living, breathing, working oxymoron in itself – everything working with and against each other. It presents a synthesis of the past and present, residing side by side in harmony. Go to the stone pillared mandapas opposite the temple, which now houses a busy market. You can watch a tailor work away with his sewing machine right next to a tall, beautiful sculpture of a yali.The wide (pothole clear) straight roads are the sign of the once planned city, but the vehicles parked on the roads, and the rough traffic that flows in and out is a sign of today. The view that would have been once unobstructed towards the tall gopurams, are now littered with billboards of all sizes, and electrical wires hanging tangled and loose. Film posters and political propaganda are stuck or painted on walls, signifying the two obsessions that feeds the city now.

The streets all around the temple are filled with shops of all sorts, built and arranged to a setback, neatly falling in line, only varying in the length and depth, and the contents they sold. If not shops, there were coffee bars, and tiffin centers. Fresh smell of idils, dosas, and pongal wafted through the streets in the morning, and you could watch old men, in checkered lungis, sitting and sipping their coffee, reading a newspaper outside these coffee bars.

For breakfast, I myself had a masala dosa, hot and crisp, served on a fresh banana leaf, with no molaga podi (red chilli powder) smeared on the insides, just the way I like it. Accompanying it, was a bowl of sambhar, and three cups of chutney,- one orange - tomato, one white - coconut and one green – coriander. Also a humble representation of our tricolour flag, I must say. For lunch, it was meals, served hot and quick, with rice, three curries, and periodic servings of sambar, and rasam being served on a fresh banana leaf, along with a cup of curd, and delicious payasam.

The process is simple. Pay first, and get a token. Sit at any empty seat, and whoop! A fresh bright green banana leaf is placed in front of you, then a glass of water, and then a bowl of rice. Then comes a hand, and you are served three different curries, then sambar, and then comes the bowl of curd and sweet. If anything has to be refilled, just a flick of a hand, and whichever server spots you, he comes to you with the cylindrical steel bucket tucked in his hand and whips out whatever you dish you asked for.

Coming to the temple, our first destination of the day, where we wandered in and out, out of countless halls, admiring the intricate and dedicated stone sculptures and cravings all over the walls and columns.

We made our way inside, fortunately without having the trouble to stand in a long queue.

We entered to a dim, cool colonnaded hall. It had a high ceiling, supported by the row of tall stone columns, in between which were snuck small stalls, illuminated by a hanging bright yellow fluorescent bulb. At the end of the hall, in the next mandapa, the golden dwajasthambam glimmers in a golden light with the focus of two spotlights. The inner halls get even dimmer, and just wallow in the glow of the tube lights or an occasional opening, that lets in the bright sunlight. But all these things are inconsistent in front of the beautiful stone work that surrounds us. Each and every part of the wall and columns are ornate with figures of various Gods, and Goddess, and mythical creatures. Only the ceilings and capitals of the columns were painted, while the rest of the temple still retained the cold, hard stone.

If we saved time while entering the temple, we still had to wait in line to see the Goddess herself. A half an hour of the heat, cooled off by the occasional blow of air from the oscillating fans nearby, and the stench of sweat and fragrance of jasmine flowers mixed in the air. But once inside the main altar, it is a different story all together. You walk on a high elevated pedestal, to make it easy for everyone to view the idol, and the AC’s blasts cold air, providing a sense of comfort for all of us. Rows and rows of jasmine flowers hung above our head, filling the room with a beautiful fragrance. A glimpse away from the flowers, and you can see the Goddess illuminated by multiple lamps around her. What a sight!

The next destination was the Thirumalai Nayakkar Mahal, and to call it a ruin is a deep understatement. Though only a quarter of the palace remains, you can admire the board white and golden columns, a reminiscent of the same white and golden colours of Manisha Koirala’s dress in the song Kannale Ennathu Kannai in the film Bombay.  The ornate cravings on the domes, and arches, and the painted ceilings add elegance to the simple structure.

The palace is a breather from all the congestion, noise and chaos omnipresent outside its walls.

On the way back from the temple, we paid a quick visit to St. Mary’s Cathedral, which drew our attention many times that day while crossing the signal. Unfortunately it was closed in preparation for next day Easter celebrations. But here are a few snaps I clicked from the outside!

Less than twelve hours in Madurai, and an essay on it isn’t justifiable, but I loved what I saw of the city. Most religious towns are littered with devotional songs playing out in speakers and sell only items for religious use, but in Madurai  you never do get a feeling you are visiting a temple town. Evening bazaars go on, selling everything from socks, to clothes to plastic buckets. Juice shops selling the Madurai famous Jigarthanda drink, old women selling jasmine flowers on the roadside, and you can find other electronic, furniture, antique stores that so rarely inhabit the premises of the temple surroundings. It is then not a temple town, but a town with a temple in it.