My story begins with a physical journey through some of the most difficult parts of the Himalayas. But as I winded my way through dense forests and deep caves and crossed mighty rivers and witnessed waterfalls gushing out of the mountains and temples and met yogis in meditation, heard incredible stories and touched the ancient myths I felt myself transform. I had reached a turning point a transition in terms of belief and understanding of my life’s journey. It was miraculous.
Miracles are those solid slabs that make bridges more concrete between pilgrimage and spirituality.
Ancient pilgrimage routes, especially on a tough terrain or a difficult high mountain path, have of late become adventurous trek routes . Pilgrimage stories, associated with miracles are like adding spice to greater attraction, both for travellers and readers. “Out of difficulties grow miracles.”
I solemnly prayed before the strange deity of Shiva on the mountain wall. Here Shiva is Kalpeshwar Shiva. The God, the shrine, the place, all named after Kalpeshwar. Shiva’s locks. Actually, there’s no facial or figurative deity as such. Only a natural over hanging rock.
The face of it so wrinkled in patches that it seems like a huge Jatapunja which means a lock of hair. I prayed that we successfully complete the circuit. So we can visit all five famous shrines of Shiva, commonly known as Pancha Kedar, spread in different mountain ranges of the Garhwal region of the Himalayas.
The temple complex was isolated and looked lonely. Only five local devotees were offering prayers. A lone priest was chanting Shiva mantras, that’s all.
The huge mountain ridge blocked the north-east sky and the rest of the plateau was surrounded by tall trees and various weeds and creepers. A tiny shade for the pilgrims and a beautiful stream flowing vigorously. It divided the temple shrine and the green plateau of Kalpeshwar.
Hurriedly we crossed the log bridge over the stream, and headed for Devagram, a village three miles away. Here our guide our ruck sacks and packed lunch awaited us.
We left Devagram. We were now four. We two, the guide and a porter. The south bound trail now motorable, stretched for six miles up to the road ahead of Hellang, a crossing over the Alakananda river on the Gopeshwar- Chamoli- Joshimatt highway.
Three decades ago, everything was so different, on those days the ‘Pancha Kedar Parikrama’ was a good 93 miles trek, altitude ranging from 1300 to 4500 metres.
We took a right turn towards north-west. A slimy moss ridden path gradually going up through the beautiful jungle all sides. The guide’s parents , like all rural mountain folk were very hospitable and we ate extra potato pancakes. Thus making trekking difficult!
We all know that behind every shrine, or places of pilgrimage, there are mythological stories of spiritual importance. The myth behind Pancha Kedar or the famous five mountain shrines of Shiva. These stories helped us as they were inspiring as well as created a divine feeling within. It was as if we touched something deep down inside ourselves.
As ancient as Lord Shiva, so old is Kedar khand. Saivism is considered to be the oldest religious belief. Having lost all Kuru brothers and kith and kin in the historic battle of Kurukshetra,the epic Mahabharata tells us of how the five victorious Pandava brothers became unusually morose and grieved for the acquired sins for killings.
It is then that sage Vedavyasa , advised the five brothers to go to the Himalayas and pay a visit & worship Lord Shiva the eternal life force. If Shiva is pleased then all your grief and sins will be erased. Interestingly Shiva made it difficult for them to find him. instead, they say he played a hide and seek game. The Pandavas couldn’t find Shiva but the determined five warrior brothers left no stone unturned. Then Shiva took the form of a buffalo and tried to escape from them. But Bhim the strongest among the brothers, grabbed the rear part of the escaping buffalo so forcefully that the commotion made the Shiva in-guise of a buffalo break into five pieces. It is believed that those five pieces fell and spread over five places.
These five places are the five shrines of Shiva and named Pancha Kedar. The five Shiva’s. At Kalpeshwar fell his locks of hair. At Rudranath,his face. At Tunganath , his hands and at Madhya Maheshwar the navel and at Kedarnath, the rest of the body. It is also said that the front part fell at Pashupatinath temple in Nepal.
We walked through the jungle covered by mountain ridges. The increasing gradient led us to our destination Dumak village six miles from Devagram,. Our individual rucksacks were heavy with personal belongings whereas, the porter was carrying only the stove, half fill kerosene oil jerrican, minimum rations of rice, wheat flour, vegetables for only two days. The guide carried only his personal belongings.
Every known experienced trekker laughed at us for undertaking this journey for a period fifteen days. They said it was an impossible feat we were attempting. From Calcutta to Pancha Kedar and back in fifteen days!
Grass and weed covered pebbles bit our soles all the way. on the way, surrounded by deep jungle, we suddenly lost the gradient and found ourselves on a flat and bright space with less trees. The guide stopped and said – “sirs, this place is named Urvashi. A very powerful yogi lives nearby, let’s go to him and seek blessings for our safe journey”.
My friend was reluctant. He didn’t wish to waste of time. I insisted , feeling we were on a pilgrimage. A little interior of the jungle, hardly fifty metres away we reached the yogi’s place. It was truly a hermitage. A hut made of dry branches and dry leaves, and a little temple nearby was a peaceful abode. Hardly three feet away it was made of slate stone blocks and boulders, a trident or Trishul was planted atop. A Shiva inside the temple, and burning oil lamp and incense stick. The whole atmosphere was so serene and peaceful. We could hear chirping of invisible birds in a melodious chorus. A nerve soothing cool breeze blew ceaselessly. A hermit lived here.
After a while the yogi hermit came out from inside the hut. He spread a blanket in front of the temple. he didn’t look older than twenty five looked like hardly 25 years old but cool and content with meditative set of eyes. He was slim and very active with quick strides. Bare bodied with a piece of blanket wrapped around his waist (later in the evening, the guide told us that the yogi had not aged in the last twenty years).
Hesitantly we tried touching his feet but he resisted with a sweet smile. Instead, he offered each of us handful of soaked grams mixed with sugar candy and told us to sit down for tea. We politely refused saying , we are late already.
He asked, “why do you hurry? Where are you heading for?” so we told him we were headed for Rudranath. After a few moments of silence, he replied smiling, “but you can’t visit Rudranath because the temple will be shut from day after tomorrow. You surely know that Rudranath is two days walk from Dumak village. You cannot reach in time”.
We were stunned. My friend strongly protested and began a loud argument. We had proper advisory regarding travel and date when we left. We had distinct information that there are still five days in hand before closing of the shrine. The yogi remained calm. “There is expected weather disturbance”.
I had slowly begun to surrender to the magic of the mountains, the miraculous stories and the antiquity surrounding me. I had felt the presence of something bigger than myself. your information is three days old since, you left Rudranath three days back, our information is also three days old then, how come without Govt knowledge the date is changed? The yogi said more calmly – “The closing date was announced by the two days back and I left Rudranath yesterday morning and reached here last night”.
We both said in astonishment – “it’s impossible. How can you return in one day from Rudranath?” I fell at his feet and prayed – “please please help us. Give us the details of that new path to our guide so that we may reach Rudranath tomorrow”. But our guide said reluctantly and definitive voice that – I won’t go that way, I have no idea, I have heard that the forest is full of wild and ferocious animals. ..
My friend said – we are a group of four, why are you so fearful. We can explore the same route. But the guide remained adamant. Again, I touched the yogi’s feet and prayed –“Please favour us with your grace. You might feel our desperation. We have come from far away Calcutta. We have saved money for months despite all our hardship. Please persuade the guide on our behalf and tell him the new route”
Then the guide’s nod in acknowledgement and understanding gave us immense joy and relief. The yogi turned towards us and said – “it’s not that impossible or fearsome. The difficulty is that there is no clear path or marking, you are to open the path yourself”.
Here lay a transformative message. And I received it in the peace of the surroundings. I could already hear the temple bells.
The route was dreadful. From Dumak, we entered into the jungle on the right side and kept ascending diagonally for four hours. When we reached a certain part of jungle which was horrifying dense and darker, we felt the difference, and our sixth sense, searched for a Beill tree there. Through much difficulties suddenly we found we have reached Rudranath valley. Such is life’s journey too.
We reached Dumak in the evening twilight. A very small village, like a basin surrounded by high ridges and covered by dense forest. We were able to easily get accommodation in the only hotel at Dumak. Pilgrims who take up this route, spend a night here. Usually, there are three routes to reach Rudranath. The common most is from Saggar village road head, spending the night at Panner Bugiyal. The hardest one is from Mondal village road head via Anusuya and crossing Naola pass. This route, via Dumak – Toli -Panner Bugiyal is comparatively harder than the first one but, the advantage of night shelter at two villages Dumak and Toli was tempting.
We were eager to collect more information about the new route. We talked to some villagers elders. Surprisingly, they avoided any discussion about the new route. Pointing a finger towards the south-west high ridge mountain path that goes to Toli village they fell silent.
I returned to the hotel and looked for the guide to talk to. I found him at the lone first floor balcony speaking to someone in a low voice in the dark. Suspecting something unholy ,I tip-toed and hid behind a pillar to find out who he was talking to. I became alert but was overwhelmed when found him eyes closed , chanting mantras. In the dark I could just about see him sitting with folded hands. he was chanting –At first, I didn’t understand but on careful listening I recognised the mantra which has profound implication both spiritually and philosophically. In reply to the welcoming address at Chicago World Religions meet on 11th September, 1893, the great Indian sage and scholar Swami Vivekananda had quoted this particular divine verse. “Oh Lord Shiva, hundreds of streams flow in different directions, some in straight, some in curve or on a zigzag course but finally all dissolves in the ocean. All doctrines ultimately dissolve in you.”
Silently I returned to the hotel room and fell into thinking about the guide. He was a school dropout, a mere villager, with a guide/porter’s job, sometimes working in crop fields as a daily wages labourer. He looked after his family of seven and still possessed such a blissful spiritual mind. To memorize and chant 42 Shiva mantras daily was an incredible feat. I could feel my being surrendering to this miraculous simple world around me.
We took our dinner much early and went to bed. A single bed that could accommodate eight people - a village dormitory.
In the morning we left Dumak at about quarter to six and immediately started gaining height through more dense forests. Within a few minutes Dumak vanished behind the deep jungle.
Tall trees of Pine, Chir, Rudraksha, Eucalyptus and hundreds of unknown trees covered the jungle . They so wrapped up the sky that it was visible only as a handkerchief floating high above. Age old tall trees, so catastrophic and close by each other that it seems they were in eternal union, but in reality, they were on a constant fighting for own space, existence, and growth. Beneath them, a mixture of creepers, cut bushes, dry leaves and branches together with pebbles and boulders. Like traps laid for centuries. Something propelled us on. We kept moving on. Hours passed by. Despite difficulties we kept ascending diagonally.
The thick forest here was primitive and inaccessible. that it’s absurd to define any direction other than the gradient or ups and downs. The jungle was so covered with foliage that the sun’s rays cannot penetrate the dark. Bushes and creepers pierced through and tore our windcheater and clothing, rucksack. Sacks got hooked in branches. The guide and the porter now used their khukri for cutting and chopping out the obstruction for a passage.
Somebody or something was guiding us. We definitely weren’t alone in the forest. Somewhere uprooted huge tall trees with layers of century old fungus lay all over. lying so awkwardly that crossing is very difficult. Sometimes, crawling beneath, next time climbing the huge log. Now, another trouble though, we faced it from the beginning, that is cobwebs and spiders. This time, cobweb is so sticky like adhesive and trapezing spiders are so big that made us nervous. But we kept going, using a dry branch as remover of cobweb and its makers….the smart spiders.
We were quite exhausted by now. The guide stopped. Nothing was visible other than the primitive jungle all round. There was no space to stand comfortably without support. But, looking at the guide’s fear struck face I asked him to bring out the tea flask that he brought from Dumak, and a packet of cookies for us all.
The guide opened the flask but his shocked eyes made us curious. He showed us the flask, the inner glass capsule had broken into pieces. Layers of mercury now mixed with the hot tea was twinkling like stars in a black hole of a broken flask. The nervous guide declared that he couldn’t find anywhere the particular Beill tree land mark. It was to guide us not to proceed further upwards. But to start our descent straight to the river bank. As advised and directed by the Yogi.
My friend checked his watch, the time was half past eleven. To give strength to the frightened guide I said, “ be strong. Don’t lose your head. Do one thing, you two climb straight upward for fifteen minutes and try to locate the tree from above.” We two are waiting right here. I hope you will get some lead for sure. Now, move. The guide and the porter together started climbing through the dense forest as before and got lost in the woods.
The jungle was so covered in foliage it seemed the rays of the sun prohibited there. It seemed like evening, more because, the firefly insects in groups started appearing.
A good one hour had passed and they didn’t return. In the meantime, we cleaned a big boulder removing weeds and creepers coverings and somehow a sitting arrangement is made. My friend developed stomach disorder with pain, already twice he had to go for evacuation. A continuous buzz of invisible crickets become so loud and suddenly when they stop buzzing, the deadly silence prevails, that creates horrific suspense as if something going to happen undoubtedly. Time was running out. I shouted many times by calling their names but in vain.
Two hours passed. My friend reacted in a state of panic. My mind bracing in thoughts – if the guide and porter don’t return what will we both do then? Though, we didn’t see or encounter any animal yet, but when actual evening sets in what would be the consequence? Water bottles were almost empty. The yogi had warned us about the lack of water. There was no water source anywhere until we could reach the river.
All of a sudden, there was a noise so close by as if some reptiles were crawling over dry leaves and hurriedly rushing towards us. My friend who was half lying on a boulder jumped in terror and slipped on the bushes beneath. Instead of the consequential imaginary fright of approaching reptiles, the guide and the porter arrived with a smiling face. Just behind the boulder, on which we two rested for hours, a huge tree blossomed in plenty of light green young shoots with round shaped fruits hanging, distinctly different from all nearby trees. It was the a Beill tree we were looking for. The yogi had repeatedly talked about the land mark which leads straight down to the river bank where a log is placed for crossing. The next miles was a cake walk to reach Rudranath shrine.
Not long after we returned home. I was a different man. I had learnt what life’s journey is like. I had returned to the bustling hurried city with a calm and courageous mind. The journey ahead would be an easier one. I was now the initiated one.
Bio
As Satyajit Mukherjee, I have nothing to say as such.
I love to roam, travel cycle, trek. Nature lives inside me. I draw, I paint, I write.
Though I try to focus big, but my frame is so small. Fifty years of practicing spiritual drawing, that has given joy of achievement through SVD (Sree Vidya process of Drawing), namely – hymns of Ishaponishada, Shiva-mahimna Stotram, Gita -Purushottom Yoga (published).
At present, working on drawings of all 700 hymns of the Gita.
Once upon a time not long ago I was a librarian