A Malaysian survives a monsoon-pelted yatra to Siva’s Himalayan home
Aravindraj Chandrasekaran, Kuala Lumpur
Growing up in malaysia, i watched hundreds of pilgrims head for North India, eager but trepidatious about making the arduous trek to Siva’s abode at Kedarnath. From afar, I always admired those brave souls and hoped in my heart to one day feel the thrill of completing this famous, penance-filled journey to the top of the world. My time came at last to visit the holy dhams, or divine dwellings.
A yatra, or pilgrimage, to Kedarnath and Badrinath (popularly known as the dho dham yatra) counts as one of India’s most auspicious and demanding pilgrimages. This is because these two holy destinations are so remote, nestled in the high Himalayas, with Kedarnath located at 3,583 meters (11,755 feet) and Badrinath at 3,300 meters (10,827 feet) above sea level.
The Yatra Begins
On June 23, 2023, our group of pilgrims boarded a five-hour AirAsia flight from KLIA airport to New Delhi. Upon landing, we were delighted to see that Indira Gandhi International Airport had managed to reincarnate its facilities with art, engineering and people-friendly efficiencies. We could have been entering any modern international city. I recalled a frustratingly long wait to pass through immigration checkpoints 20 years ago at the same airport. This time, the wait was much shorter and I enjoyed the eye-catching works of meaningful art. As I exited the air conditioned airport, the sweltering heat hit hard, giving us pause to reflect on the challenges ahead as we waited for our driver to take us to our hotel for the night.
Early next morning, Deshraj, our driver, drove us to Rishikesh. It was a challenging 10-hour trip, as driving in India is not for the faint-hearted and even the most experienced drivers are bound to get into at least a bump or a scrape. That is exactly what happened. We were wading through a traffic jam when a car suddenly rear-ended us. As the car we used was new, Deshraj was visibly upset. You can imagine his not-so-gentile conversation with the man who rammed us. Luckily, no one was hurt and the damage was minor. The journey could continue and the dent tended to later.
I enjoyed the long drive on the well-maintained highways. It was a joy to watch the panorama change from the city hustle and bustle to the bucolic greenery of farms. Occasionally, we passed through small towns that dotted the countryside. India is indeed a land of contrasts. Along with open-air roadside dhabas, or food stalls, there was a surprising selection of restaurants to choose from, well-maintained, clean and air-conditioned. Deshraj knew exactly where to stop for the best meals. Even with all the improvements, clean toilets were a rarity.
Omkarananda Ashram, Rishikesh
We reached a bustling Rishikesh in the late afternoon. The weather was great and there were tourists and pilgrims aplenty, which made for a terrific traffic jam on the narrow roads. Our destination was Omkarananda Ashram which we had pre-booked. It was my first trip to Rishikesh and I was spellbound by the beauty and serenity of the Ganga River as I walked along Omkarananda Ghat, just meters away from the noisy, bustling street. Here I found a deep feeling of peace in the lap of the holy Ganga. It was a stark contrast. Yet, this mosaic of harmonious and colorful contrasts is what makes India so amazing.
It was an unexpected blessing to find a Sivalingam in the Ganga River at Omkarananda Ghat. I couldn’t see one anywhere else along the river. I eagerly performed a simple Ganga abishekam, or ritual bathing, of the Deity while chanting a mantra and performed arati with some simple offerings I had bought from a local lady walking along the ghats. I felt so happy to be able to do this. It’s not often one gets a chance to perform abhishekam to God Siva with actual Ganga water taken straight from the river!
In the evening, we could hear the chanting and see the massive oil lamps of the daily Ganga arati performed at Parmarth Niketan on the opposite bank of the river. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Early next morning, we were back on the road for the three-hour journey to Dhari Devi Temple.
Kali’s Quarters
Dhari Devi, a form of Kali, is considered by many to be the guardian deity of Uttarakhand and also the protector of the Char (Four) Dhams. This temple is one of the 108 Shakti Pithams—abodes of the Goddess Shakti. On June 16, 2013, the Dhari Devi Deity had been abruptly shifted to another location due to construction work related to a hydroelectric dam being built on the Alaknanda River. The work submerged the rock upon which Her murti was located. Locals can never forget that a few hours later a cloudburst triggered a deluge of historic proportions that wiped out the town surrounding Kedarnath and dozens of places in Uttarakhand. By divine intervention, only the Kedarnath Jyothirlinga Temple was spared. The floods destroyed much of the state and killed thousands of people. Local residents attributed this disaster to the unceremonious way the Deity was moved. Ten years later, on January 22, 2023, the murti was properly re-consecrated with much fanfare, placing Her in the original location after temple renovations. Traditionally, according to local lore, Her blessings should be sought before embarking on the Kedarnath yatra to ensure a safe journey.
The Dhari Devi Temple is unusual for many reasons. Her murti’s upper body is located in a temple near Kaliyasaur, Rudraprayag, while Her lower body is worshiped in Kalimath. We reached the temple near Kaliyasaur village at about 8am. The small rajagopuram was built following South Indian temple architecture.
As I walked down the steps toward the temple, I could see that the structure was built around a large rock that protrudes from the middle of the Alaknanda River at 600 meters above sea level. Unlike in most temples, here there is no fully covering dome, or vimanam, directly above the main sanctum. Apparently, this is the way the Goddess likes it. I had to walk across a bridge to reach the temple. The darshan was strong as I looked upon Her divine form beautifully draped in a rich red silk sari and adorned with a golden crown. It reminded me of the Goddess Mariamman widely worshiped in Tamil Nadu. In some temples there, only Her head is worshiped. As I was enjoying the darshan, I noticed a fog rolling over the river after the heavy rain. For a while, it felt like the temple was floating on the clouds. It was a heavenly sight that I will never forget.
Our Rough Trek to Kedarnath
We continued our journey by car through the winding roads, occasionally stopping to deal with car-sickness or to have a meal. I was surprised to see a few solitary sadhus braving the elements, walking on foot towards Kedarnath. The scenic views of the hills and mountains were magnificent as we made our way to Sonprayag to put up for the night on June 25. However, a landslide forced us to change plans and put up in a small town called Phata 16 km away from Sonprayag. This was fortunate, as the Phata Resort offers a spectacular view of the Himalayas and Kedarnath Valley. Looking above the valley, I was astonished that there were no clouds directly above the Kedarnath Valley where the Jyothirlinga is situated. It was as though the divine energies created a circular shield that prevented clouds from closing in. Other pilrims made the same observation.
The landslide was cleared by 2am the next morning. On June 26, we were back on the road at 5am eager to catch up for lost time. Because of heavy traffic at 6am in Sonprayag, we had to walk about two kilometers to the verification checkpoint with our heavy bags and backpacks. It was tiring. Then we trekked another kilometer to board a jeep to Gaurikund because only four-wheel drive vehicles could climb beyond that point. Here the chaos caught us totally unprepared. There was no systematic way to get on the transport vehicles. No tickets. No queues. Like everyone else, we made a mad dash for any available vehicle. It was utterly chaotic, with about 15 people squeezed in or hanging on for dear life at the back. I had a stranger sitting on my lap for 20 minutes on a five km drive with my cheek pressed onto the seat. I was thankful I could still walk when we arrived at Gaurikund.
At Gaurikund, we arranged for porters with sling-carriers to haul our heavy bags. Our group preferred to avoid using ponies on humane grounds as we saw how badly these animals were being treated. We still carried a backpack to hold some water, snacks and clothing as we trekked up. It was essential to use a walking stick that could be bought from the locals at the trail entrance. After a short prayer to Lord Ganesha, Goddess Gauri and God Siva at a shrine nearby, we started our trek at 8:30am. After the devastating floods of 2013, the new altered route is at least 18 km long when you consider the walking that you do before entering Gaurikund.
The view as we hiked was spectacular—pristine snow-capped mountains, forests, glaciers and tiny streams flowing across our path. The sacred Mandakini River, cascading in the opposite direction, kept us company throughout the day. However, seeing litter strewn on the cliff side along many parts of the path, I found myself wishing for better trash management. Pilgrims, businesses and authorities have a responsibility to keep this sacred place clean, right?
It was tough to keep pace with the porters, as they are accustomed to moving briskly, even with our burden of bags on their backs. So, our group broke into two teams. One team kept pace with the porters, while the other moved at a moderate speed. I was with the latter team, needing to avoid altitude sickness which was threatening my body. We thought we could communicate by phone with the other team even though separated, but this proved difficult as we had challenges getting a clear signal.
As we moved higher and higher, the air turned colder and thinner, making it difficult to walk. Some people resorted to portable oxygen canisters to alleviate breathing difficulties. These were available at pharmacies in Sonprayag and Gaurikund. Medical relief camps with oxygen supplies are also available along the path during pilgrimage season. After Bheembali, the halfway point, the climb grew noticeably steeper. The steps there are made of cobblestones that are often uneven. We were thankful we brought proper trekking shoes.
We faced the ever-present risk of being pushed to the side by ponies or their handlers as they sped along the narrow path with little regard for those of us on foot. The overwhelming smell of horse manure and urine was also difficult to deal with. It was quite impossible to avoid getting these on your shoes. I felt nauseated and was forced to halt a few times to rest. Thankfully, the person following me had some medicated eucalyptus oil that contained menthol and camphor. Sniffing that oil greatly helped with the nausea.
Beyond Bheembali I was weakening and was advised to alternate taking ten steps forward with short pauses, taking deep breaths during the pauses to avoid altitude sickness. I was wearing a light vest with many big zipped pockets to hold a few 500 ml water bottles. Whenever I ran short of water, I would buy the one-liter water bottles and refill the smaller bottles to distribute the weight. Water is crucial, as you can get dehydrated easily and thus exacerbate altitude sickness. I also had to use Oral-Rehydration Salt (ORS) sachets mixed in the water.
In that remote location, there is not much variety in the stalls when it comes to food. Chapatis with dal and hot instant noodles were the norm. However, in the increasingly cold weather, a hot cup of chai tasted heavenly and helped keep my face and hands warm for a few restful minutes. Additionally, I had my own supply of dried raisins and nuts to maintain my energy level. We quickly learned that it’s never a good idea to take heavy meals while trekking.
It also tends to rain all of a sudden here, and the downpours can be quite heavy. Typical winter-wear, though somewhat waterproof, can’t handle heavy rains. This is where raincoats and waterproofed trekking shoes came in handy. Somewhere along the journey, I had left my backpack at one of the food-stalls and was forced to walk back two km to retrieve it. All this slowed us down considerably. By sunset, we passed Lincholi and still had about five km to complete the journey. At this altitude, the cold winds grew harsher as darkness approached. I was freezing, with no idea how long it would take to reach the temple complex. Since we had already pre-booked our hotel inside the Kedarnath temple complex, we had no choice but to hire additional porters and be carried on sling-carriers the rest of the way to get there on time.
Tents were everywhere as pilgrims overflowed and there was insufficient accommodation within the temple complex. Ponies were not allowed closer than two km away from the temple complex, so thankfully the smell of manure was gone. Now, the mountain air was fresh and pleasant.
As I entered the Kedarnath temple complex on the back of the porter, I could see the stars twinkling above in the clear and silent night sky. It was 10:30pm. We had trekked fourteen hours straight. Our accommodations were at the Hotel Sunil, situated inside the temple complex, just 200 meters from the main temple. I was looking forward to hitting the bed as soon as I got into the room. Just then, the peaceful silence was broken as the temple bell rang loudly, as though welcoming us. The porter let us down and we could finally see the well-lit temple.
A great feeling of joy engulfed me as I raised my cold hands gratefully in namaskar. We had reached the awe-inspiring Himalayan citadel of God Siva known as Kedarnath. I stopped for a moment in the silence and reflected on the amazing fact that over 300,000 brave souls make this journey each year. This year, I was one among them.