Srisailam

Shiva.

The God with the third eye, who destroys and then creates.
The dusky, ash-covered lord of the celestial, snow-covered and craggy heights of Kailash.
The most feared (and yet, limpid eyed) of the Hindu triumvirate.
And so on, and so forth.
But all these descriptions of him are middle-path acknowledgements, all these are the ways he is deified in the politically correct form within the Hindu pantheon. And also, how he is discussed in the drawing rooms of the prim and proper.

For those who understand and accept creation and life in its very basic form, be it the ash-smeared bhakta or the bedraggled, "who cares if I bathe or not", matty haired, chillum smoking Babas and Sadhus, he's basically a piece of stone.

A cylindrically perfect piece of stone, a Phallic symbol if you will, a symbol of male virility thrusting into and limited by female acceptance, a symbol of lively zest and of course, the pure, raw power that creates and multiplies, come what may.

I am talking of the sacred stone, the Lingam. When you go to most temples, Shiva, the Shiva of yore, the original rebel God of the Hindu pantheon, does seem tamed at last, bound by temple rituals, seperated from his (equally bound) devotees, yet another God in yet another temple.

Unless the temple in question happens to be in thick forests or lofty heights. Unless, the Lingam in question happens to be a Jyotirlingam, a manifestation of Shiva himself. As it is in Srisailam.

Around 8 hours from Hyderabad by bus, the last three of them through the fabled Srisailam Tiger Reserve [including a heart popping, edge of the seat (assuming you are awake or bus-sick) descent and ascent of the bridged gorge on the River Krishna] is Andhra Pradesh's only Jyotirlingam. And one of the twelve in India. Located upriver of the massive Srisailam Hydel project, the temple town seems to hark back to the very days of Shiva. Surrounded as it is by green hills and deep waters, both as silent and mysterious as Shiva himself and almost as wild. And fittingly, the temple town doesn't have too many of the consumerist or market-driven bric-a-brac; making do with a couple of choultries and the ubiquitous souvenir shops.

The actual temple complex is a fort that you can enter by buying a ticket that costs all of Rs.2. You do need to queue up with all those who can afford that Rs. 2. But the darshan is quick and very, very simple when compared to that at places like Tirumala. Also, if you there when the Nalla Malla hills are could-swathed or when its winter, the cold flags seem burning hot to your bare feet.

For all purposes reminiscent of how it would be if you were a pilgrim going up a glacier on the icy heights of Mount Kailash. Almost.

If you are lucky enough to be the type woken up early by faith or if you had planned your darshan right, you can be party to an awesome occassion. The priests and the temple musicians wake up the Lord in the early hours of the morning, around 5.00 to be exact. To the strains of Nadaswarams, drums and Vedic chants that seem to reverberate from each and every stone in the temple.

This is a once in a lifetime experience, for the profoundly devout, the fearfully pious and the "culturally here" agnostic. Give your imagination a bit of rope and you will feel that you are wee bit closer to the cosmic power source, the vitality that makes you alive, the lifeblood that throbs through you, the positive charge in you that searches for, unites with and then procreates along with the negative.

You feel a bit closer to understanding and accepting the basic meaning of Shiva.

The actual Darshan is no less magical. You are at one of India's 12 Jyotirlingams in a day and age when pilgrimages are no longer backbreaking affairs. Yet, immaterial of the crowds or the time of the day, there are no temple attendees shooing you away when you are in the Sanctum.

Allow me to digress here, if you will. I have always wondered about the ritualistic, even repetititve element in Hinduism, specifically when it comes to temples. People (most of them at least), queue up for darshan, silently, even meekly like they are cattle. They move along again, for the most part, in silent order, as if getting herded along. And then, once they are in the Sanctum, all of a sudden religious fervour grabs them! As if the charmed ghosts of all the saint-poets and mendicant-singers associated with the deity in question have collectively entered into their beings! So you witness a hitherto meek person suddenly transformed into a devotee in a trance, enthralled in "Darshan". Making you wonder at the almost choreographed nature of the devotion, the stagey prostations, off-key chants and what not's.

Well, you will see none of this in Srisailam. Because, here a very important, nay integral part of Darshan is touching the Lingam with both hands! While the priest on duty recites hymns and blessings for you. Which means here you get a one-on-one that makes even the most irrational realize the needlessness of being stagey.

Temple visit done, after you have gone around figuring out which entrance to the temple was built by Shivaji and tried to understand what the carvings on the fort walls mean, you could also put your feet to work. Real work if I may say so; by going down to Patalganga Ghat on irregular steps where many Sadhus sit doing what Sadhus do best. Modern day Patalganga Ghat is nothing but the edge of the man-made reservoir that stretches in front of you and you can even see the huge dam from here. Immaterial of the amount of water in the reservoir, you can try and discover how close your heart gets to your mouth when you are in a Coracle on the waters.

If you are a bit more excitement minded than most (and your boatman is amenable) you could also row over to one of the islands that dot the reservoir and contemplate a trek through what looks impenetrable jungle. The rare chance of coming face to face with one of the tigers of Srisailam shouldn't scare you.

After all, Shiva does reside in you too, does He not?

P.S - This is the first travelogue (for want of a better word) that I had written; after my very first visit to Srisailam, way back in 1999 or so. Srisailam has changed a bit since then, and my own understanding of Shiva has changed a lot since then :-)