GIRI PRADAKSHINA: ROUND THE MOUNTAIN
My yatras (pilgrimages) to India have taken me by land from the source of the Ganges close to the Tibetan border, to Kanya Kumari at the very southern tip of the subcontinent, via many of the great spiritual centres of India. When my restless feet craved for stillness and focus I journeyed to Tamil Nadu, to Ramanasramam on the edge of the city of Tiruvannamalai and at the foot of the Mountain of Fire, Arunachala,the embodiment of Lord Shiva and one of the main pilgrimage destinations of south India. Ramana Maharshi the great C20th rishi spent much of his life meditating on the mountain.
For pilgrims, barefoot and shaven headed, the tradition associated with Arunachala is to walk around the base of the mountain on the night of a full moon, and it was this walk `giripradakshina` of about 14 kilometres I was determined to make.
There was no full moon during my visit, but I seized a chance to make the walk alone, starting in the early hours before dawn. The route is lined with temples, wayside shrines often with reservoirs (tanks) alongside, and idols of Nandi the bull, Shiva`s mount. I was drawn to the experience of being alone in this special place. It was to give myself time to meditate on the question Ramana instructed we should ask ourselves, `Who am I?`
I was awake and set off at 4.30am, slipping through the side entrance of the ashram onto the deserted and pitch black road that skirts the mountain. I had taken a minimum of `stuff`, a water bottle, two snack bars and camera for when it became light. With shaved head I wore just two pieces of ochre khadi cloth, a lungi caught around the waist and a shawl around the shoulders, (Khadi is organically grown, hand spun and woven cotton cloth with natural dyes and worn by sadhus), a rudraksha seed mala around my neck, and chappals (flip flops). With my cotton shoulder bag I was equipped for my pilgrimage.
It was impossible to see where my feet were treading and only later that I thought of snakes and giant scorpions possibly sharing my route. An occasional light from a building, was just enough to establish the edge of the roadside verge for a few more metres. Sometimes a shadowy figure emerged approaching me.
I strode along loudly chanting Shiva`s mantra `Om Namah Shivaya`. Aruachala mountain was constantly to my right as I went along my clockwise circumambulation. I was relishing being totally alone and in a foreign environment. Subsequently people have asked if I was not afraid. In many parts of India, including Arunachala, western tourists may be attacked and robbed in isolated areas. But I felt safe in the care of Lord Shiva.
For a few kilometres the route was fairly familiar having driven that way with my guide and driver Prabu Karan when we visited Mahasamadhi sites which commemorated some of the great saints who had lived along this road, in the shadow of Arunachala. Some had spent years walking around and on the mountain; a tradition which continues to this day.
As it began to get a little lighter and the outline of the mountain showed more clearly in the warm dawn light I stopped for a brief rest, a drink of water and snack. Fifteen minutes and I was off again. Now I was more aware of things to see and the mantra chanting faded away. Apart from chai and coffee stalls, souvenir booths as well as everyday shops line almost the whole route. Following the path it was necessary to avoid tripping over the sleeping sadhus who spend their lives here. As the world began to wake up the sadhus stirred and congregated in groups where the charity feeding stations were. Vehicles drive out from Tiruvannamalai to hand out food and drinks in well organised programmes.
I had heard that it could be difficult to follow the route but recently a red coloured pavement has been constructed almost all the way round to guide pilgrims. This may not be aesthetically pleasing but on this busy road it keeps the pilgrims separate from the chaotic traffic.
Now the path began to include other walkers, Indian and pilgrims from around the globe. For a time I shared my walk with a small group of Indian men visiting from Australia who were amazed that an Englishman should be making this giripradakshina alone.
As the road continues around the edge of the mountain it begins to approach the outskirts of the city. I took a second break watching stall holders opening their shuttered booths, small naked children playing outside their traditional huts, women busying themselves with the chores of the morning and an ever increasing stream of 50cc motor bikes heading into town, some carrying two, three or even four people.
The sun, and the temperature were rising and with the greater traffic the air was becoming dusty. The dry, sandy and gritty path surface was finding its way into my chappals. My feet were beginning to complain. At a major road junction large overhead signs indicated the way to Tiruvannamalai. Little familiar things like a temple and a restaurant we had visited the day before began to give me a sense of location.
In Tiru, as Tiruvannamalai is familiarly known by local people, the town was now fully alive. Traffic was heavy but the raised pavement kept pedestrians away from swerving motorbikes and tuc-tucs. The street was filled with open fronted shops selling everything from sweets to live chickens held in tiny battery cages. Bright garlands were being made for buyers to place in their cars, homes or to take to the temple. I detoured into a temple devoted to Kartikeya, along with the better known Ganesh, one of the sons of Shiva.
Kartikeya, also called Subramanya or Murugan, is particularly popular in Tamil Nadu. A murti of his mount, the peacock, is to be seen in the temple forecourt gazing towards the deity. Inside, away from the glaring heat, a priest performed a puja for me at the shrine before I moved outside again to rest in the shade of the temple looking out into the street. I meditated on that sensation of being at one with my surroundings. In the heat of this vibrant and colourful city, a million miles from the grey drabness of so many English towns I felt at home. Simple things like knowing how to buy a drink, take a cycle rickshaw and to ask directions in sign language and pigeon English had become familiar, but they did not answer the question, `Who am I? Unless it was to point out to me that I was all this, and more.
Soon I saw the immense gopurams, the gate towers of the main temple Arunachaleswara. This is one of the biggest and wealthiest temples of Tamil Nadu. My weary legs were heartened to know that the Ramanashraman was a relatively short walk further on. Following the outer walls brought me back to the main road. By now the parking spaces around the temple were filling with cars and coaches. Pilgrims and tourists flock to the temple every day. Somehow I felt a slight feeling of egoistic smugness knowing I had been walking for over five hours and had earned the sense of achievement I felt. Oh dear, how easy it is to be distracted from the true aim of our sadhana, our spiritual path through life. The answer to the question `Who am I?`seemed disappointingly easy to answer.
At the main ashram gates, now lined with beggars and busy with the comings and goings of visitors I crossed the road into the coffee shop opposite for a cake and coffee before walking confidently between the traffic and back into the seclusion of the ashram and my room.
----------------
My notes finish:` my feet were a little sore and for the rest of the morning I spent quite a long time practising how to write the Om symbol in Tamil rather than Sanskrit`.
And the question, `Who am I`? I think my brain knows the intellectual answer, but only the heart knows the real answer.
Derek Osborn / Swami Shantananda Brahmendra Avadhuta
Details of workshops and IST offered by Derek can be found on his website www.yoga-sadhana.org. All fees are donated to the charity TreeAid.
My yatras (pilgrimages) to India have taken me by land from the source of the Ganges close to the Tibetan border, to Kanya Kumari at the very southern tip of the subcontinent, via many of the great spiritual centres of India. When my restless feet craved for stillness and focus I journeyed to Tamil Nadu, to Ramanasramam on the edge of the city of Tiruvannamalai and at the foot of the Mountain of Fire, Arunachala,the embodiment of Lord Shiva and one of the main pilgrimage destinations of south India. Ramana Maharshi the great C20th rishi spent much of his life meditating on the mountain.
For pilgrims, barefoot and shaven headed, the tradition associated with Arunachala is to walk around the base of the mountain on the night of a full moon, and it was this walk `giripradakshina` of about 14 kilometres I was determined to make.
There was no full moon during my visit, but I seized a chance to make the walk alone, starting in the early hours before dawn. The route is lined with temples, wayside shrines often with reservoirs (tanks) alongside, and idols of Nandi the bull, Shiva`s mount. I was drawn to the experience of being alone in this special place. It was to give myself time to meditate on the question Ramana instructed we should ask ourselves, `Who am I?`
I was awake and set off at 4.30am, slipping through the side entrance of the ashram onto the deserted and pitch black road that skirts the mountain. I had taken a minimum of `stuff`, a water bottle, two snack bars and camera for when it became light. With shaved head I wore just two pieces of ochre khadi cloth, a lungi caught around the waist and a shawl around the shoulders, (Khadi is organically grown, hand spun and woven cotton cloth with natural dyes and worn by sadhus), a rudraksha seed mala around my neck, and chappals (flip flops). With my cotton shoulder bag I was equipped for my pilgrimage.
It was impossible to see where my feet were treading and only later that I thought of snakes and giant scorpions possibly sharing my route. An occasional light from a building, was just enough to establish the edge of the roadside verge for a few more metres. Sometimes a shadowy figure emerged approaching me.
I strode along loudly chanting Shiva`s mantra `Om Namah Shivaya`. Aruachala mountain was constantly to my right as I went along my clockwise circumambulation. I was relishing being totally alone and in a foreign environment. Subsequently people have asked if I was not afraid. In many parts of India, including Arunachala, western tourists may be attacked and robbed in isolated areas. But I felt safe in the care of Lord Shiva.
For a few kilometres the route was fairly familiar having driven that way with my guide and driver Prabu Karan when we visited Mahasamadhi sites which commemorated some of the great saints who had lived along this road, in the shadow of Arunachala. Some had spent years walking around and on the mountain; a tradition which continues to this day.
As it began to get a little lighter and the outline of the mountain showed more clearly in the warm dawn light I stopped for a brief rest, a drink of water and snack. Fifteen minutes and I was off again. Now I was more aware of things to see and the mantra chanting faded away. Apart from chai and coffee stalls, souvenir booths as well as everyday shops line almost the whole route. Following the path it was necessary to avoid tripping over the sleeping sadhus who spend their lives here. As the world began to wake up the sadhus stirred and congregated in groups where the charity feeding stations were. Vehicles drive out from Tiruvannamalai to hand out food and drinks in well organised programmes.
I had heard that it could be difficult to follow the route but recently a red coloured pavement has been constructed almost all the way round to guide pilgrims. This may not be aesthetically pleasing but on this busy road it keeps the pilgrims separate from the chaotic traffic.
Now the path began to include other walkers, Indian and pilgrims from around the globe. For a time I shared my walk with a small group of Indian men visiting from Australia who were amazed that an Englishman should be making this giripradakshina alone.
As the road continues around the edge of the mountain it begins to approach the outskirts of the city. I took a second break watching stall holders opening their shuttered booths, small naked children playing outside their traditional huts, women busying themselves with the chores of the morning and an ever increasing stream of 50cc motor bikes heading into town, some carrying two, three or even four people.
The sun, and the temperature were rising and with the greater traffic the air was becoming dusty. The dry, sandy and gritty path surface was finding its way into my chappals. My feet were beginning to complain. At a major road junction large overhead signs indicated the way to Tiruvannamalai. Little familiar things like a temple and a restaurant we had visited the day before began to give me a sense of location.
In Tiru, as Tiruvannamalai is familiarly known by local people, the town was now fully alive. Traffic was heavy but the raised pavement kept pedestrians away from swerving motorbikes and tuc-tucs. The street was filled with open fronted shops selling everything from sweets to live chickens held in tiny battery cages. Bright garlands were being made for buyers to place in their cars, homes or to take to the temple. I detoured into a temple devoted to Kartikeya, along with the better known Ganesh, one of the sons of Shiva.
Kartikeya, also called Subramanya or Murugan, is particularly popular in Tamil Nadu. A murti of his mount, the peacock, is to be seen in the temple forecourt gazing towards the deity. Inside, away from the glaring heat, a priest performed a puja for me at the shrine before I moved outside again to rest in the shade of the temple looking out into the street. I meditated on that sensation of being at one with my surroundings. In the heat of this vibrant and colourful city, a million miles from the grey drabness of so many English towns I felt at home. Simple things like knowing how to buy a drink, take a cycle rickshaw and to ask directions in sign language and pigeon English had become familiar, but they did not answer the question, `Who am I? Unless it was to point out to me that I was all this, and more.
Soon I saw the immense gopurams, the gate towers of the main temple Arunachaleswara. This is one of the biggest and wealthiest temples of Tamil Nadu. My weary legs were heartened to know that the Ramanashraman was a relatively short walk further on. Following the outer walls brought me back to the main road. By now the parking spaces around the temple were filling with cars and coaches. Pilgrims and tourists flock to the temple every day. Somehow I felt a slight feeling of egoistic smugness knowing I had been walking for over five hours and had earned the sense of achievement I felt. Oh dear, how easy it is to be distracted from the true aim of our sadhana, our spiritual path through life. The answer to the question `Who am I?`seemed disappointingly easy to answer.
At the main ashram gates, now lined with beggars and busy with the comings and goings of visitors I crossed the road into the coffee shop opposite for a cake and coffee before walking confidently between the traffic and back into the seclusion of the ashram and my room.
----------------
My notes finish:` my feet were a little sore and for the rest of the morning I spent quite a long time practising how to write the Om symbol in Tamil rather than Sanskrit`.
And the question, `Who am I`? I think my brain knows the intellectual answer, but only the heart knows the real answer.
Derek Osborn / Swami Shantananda Brahmendra Avadhuta
Details of workshops and IST offered by Derek can be found on his website www.yoga-sadhana.org. All fees are donated to the charity TreeAid.
