Today my dad woke up at 3AM, cleaned the bathroom, took a shower, packed his bags, and woke me up at 4:30 so I could get ready as well. We were about to leave Mukthi Nilayam, after 4 lovely days staying there sharing their meditations, chants, and food.
We still managed to join the chants at 5:15AM, the chants at 6:00 AM, the Prema Yajna at 6:20, say personal goodbyes to Amma, and catch the bus to Madurai at a few minutes past 7:00 AM.
One colorful bus ride later, we were in Madurai, sitting down at a restaurant having breakfast. My dad asked for two rations of milk, and I drank Masala milk and had some rice with three kinds of spices. 122 rupees later and some bad directions from the shop owners to get to the Naadi reader, we were walking through some ceremonial procession. It had men hanging from hooks attached to their skins on their backs and legs, placed on top of a moving car, and some other men had long metallic bars, of about 5-6 meters long, pierced through both their cheeks. Other people wore colors of orange, green, and yellow on their skin, and walked along with them. Colorful indeed.
We walked about 2km through the winding streets, frequently missing the turn or taking it too early. We managed to get a SIM card along the way for 1200 rupees, though, and then I got 8000 out of an ATM to resupply us along the way. Then I convinced my dad to get a TucTuc and to have them help us get there today. It turns out we were walking towards the wrong place. The TucTuc took us to the Nadii reading place - about 15-20km away, I'd say. The driver waited for us to finish to take us back, while we ourselves waited inside for them to finish some Pujja, then kind of bartered our way to "only" paying 1500 rupees for a single Canto reading, instead of the full 12+4 cantos at 1500 rupees each, plus the Mahasiva reading, 2500 rupees worth. 26500 rupees to supposedly know my entire future? My dad seemed less thrilled about it anyway, so we went with only the first Canto, he wrote down all my details on a piece of paper (dates, places, family members, relationship status, etc). It was like a Facebook profile on a piece of paper, plus my thumb print with purple ink. Supposedly there will be results to look at tomorrow.
We paid the TucTuc driver 800 in total for the ride there and back, plus the waiting. Once at the railway station, we got our tickets to Rameshwaram for 70 rupees, and we got in the train. It was about 12:15 by then.
At 12:30 almost-sharp, the train took off, and we found cozy overhead beds on the luggage shelves above the usual benches. Both my dad and I fell asleep. About 2-3 hours later, I woke up and started pacing our wagon up and down. We were crossing the bridge to Rameshwaram at the time, and the ocean water splashing against the rocks and platform, sparkling as the bright beach sun hit it from all angles, was a very pretty sight.
We arrived at Rameshwaram at about 4:30PM, at which time we walked out and found a TucTuc. He asked us where we were going, and we said "Dhanushkodi", since that's the only name that our low-res map has for the end of the piece of land left from the bridge that once joined India and Sri Lanka. The first TucTuc said "oh no, that's closed at 5PM", so we kept on walking. The second offered to take us to Dhanushkodi beach and back for 600, and we agreed. When we got to the beach, he said he'd wait for us for about half an hour, then we'd go back. My dad was adamant that we wanted to walk all the way to the end, though, and the driver didn't completely refuse it. He just said "I wait half an hour", while we said "we'll need more, at least two hours", and left it in that ambiguous state. That was at about 5:30PM.
3 hours later, we had walked past beautiful sunset and full-moonrise along a single long road, bordered by the splashing Indian Ocean on our right, the tranquil Bay of Bengal on our left, and remnants of houses, churches, temples, water tanks, and other buildings, whose desolate state we attributed to the effect of the Tsunami we apparently remember from a few years back. This road took us to Dhanushkodi - a fishing town - and beyond, past a sign that said "NO ENTRY", but at which the seeming gatekeeper told us it was OK to just walk by. So we walked past it, and the road just kept going, several times after we thought it looked as if it was almost ending. It took us past the end of the paved road, past the end of the gravel road, past the end of the packed mud road, past a completely sandy section to another mud road, and finally onto a beach at the very end, with nowhere else to go but into the sea. Perhaps we were hoping the bridge to Sri Lanka had already been completed. But it wasn't, so we would have to go back to Rameshwaram all the way.
We thought we would take our shoes off, splash around in the water a little bit, perhaps perform a few chants or prayers honoring the significance of the place (if not only its uniqueness), but we couldn't quite get to it. Just as we began thinking about how we should honor the moment and the accomplishment, we saw a white flashlight pointing in our direction, and slowly getting closer. My spidey sense triggered when I saw three seemingly-organized men, apparently fishermen, walking tentatively in our direction. They barely spoke any English words, but the dialogue, from our perspective, basically went like thism (hindi dialogue intentionally made up):
- "Chiku tanta ladla pladesh" (what the heck are you doing here?)
- We came walking from Rameshwaram, and we wanted to see the end of the road (gesturing to the near sea).
- "Tata li plaj chaku. Where you go?"
- Well, right after this, we're going to walk back to Rameshwaram (with finger walking gesture).
- "Now? Late, no taxi."
- That's ok, we'll just walk back to Rameshwaram.
- (They kinda look at each other, a bit puzzled, not quite believing us. Points to one of our plastic bags with a stick). "Pakila. He?" (What's in the bag?)
- Oh, we just have sandals (pointing to our feet). You know, to put on our feet.
- "Padukas!", my dad adds shouting, though I'm not sure which language that word is in. "I just want to put my feet at the end of the Hanuman bridge! Just a minute!", so he takes his shoes off and walks into the sea; begins chanting towards the full moon.
- (I open up the bags and show them. I show them the sandals and the towel inside).
- (They point to my backpack with the stick and kinda look like they want to open it). "You have biscuits?"
- I'm a bit puzzled, thinking they might be hungry, but we have no food. "No, we don't have any food (gesturing lack of capability with shrugged shoulders, shaking head, pursed lips, and upward palms). I think we have sugar. Do you want sugar?" (They don't seem interested at all).
- "Takela kamla lahala he. You, back to Rameshwaram?"
- Yes yes, we can go back now. Papi, ya nos regresamos?
- Sí, ya! Sólo dejame ponerme mis zapatos.
So a few minutes later, we're walking back on the road, but the three guys are kinda circling around us, between us, but I'm not sure what they're trying to do. If they wanted to rob us, they could've easily done it while we were standing at the end of the beach. But they just kinda hovered among us, a little intentionally annoyingly. Eventually my dad did get annoyed and told them "you, walk first, and we walk later, ok?", while we took a few steps behind them. They kinda looked at each other, and I thought his proposal was ill-timed, considering their apparent mistrust towards us (and relative overnumerousness). Luckily he then said "or maybe better, we walk first, and you walk later". That seemed better, and they let us walk on a bit faster than them. Then they could always keep an eye on us, if that's what they wanted.
So we walked ahead for about 5 minutes or so, at which point a short man with a thick mustache and also a fisherman's attire approached us pretty stealthily with some kind of bamboo stick, and stopped us on the road, telling us "hello, can I see your IDs please?" Still riddled with mistrust, I reluctantly showed him my passport. He said "I'm part of secret police", and I thought we had walked into a more complex situation than we were aware of. He asked us a few questions, verified we were from the USA as our passports said, then slid off into the night. He came back once more to ask us some other questions, then slid off again. Then one more time, and I wondered whether he was just verifying what we had told them, or was somehow looking for some kind of tip money - for letting us go or something. In any case, the third time he slid off for good, shouting "Go America!" or something, and we continued walking.
We still walked for about 10 more minutes, and I mentioned how a very tall cellphone tower we had seen on the way there was still not even visible at all. We both felt ready to walk the whole way back, but after a little while, an orange light began heading towards us, and out came 4 people, all of them excitedly asking us stuff, but this time in English (with marked indian accents).
It turns out the TucTuc driver whom we left waiting, who I had almost assumed had simply left after we didn't come back for hours on end, had notified the police about us (or they had found him), and they'd come searching for us. I recognized the driver only when he said, in a worried voice: "I told you, you walk only half an hour on the beach! I wait for you, and what time is it? It's past 8! I wait for you long time, police come!"
What we did not know at the time was that the place we were in was an area known for smuggling. Not sure what or whom was smuggled there, but we were at that time suspects for smuggling. "You're here at night, but it's forbidden! You come with us, we make a police enquiry!" Only at that point I understood what the faux-fishermen along the beach were doing. They were poking our bags, looking for smuggled goods (drugs? weapons? Dunno), but they didn't really need to open them, since they were relatively small (carry-on size).
I was understandably concerned that this situation might pose a problem for the rest of our night, but my dad seemed ecstatic. "We can ride with you back in the TucTuc? Oh, thank you, thank you!" And so we did. The police people asked us questions on the way back, mostly about where we were from, and what we were doing there, but they seemed almost certain we weren't smugglers at that point. Still, they eyed us with suspicion from time to time, and one of them told us "Sir, you shouldn't be out here at night. You should think of your own safety! Own safety!" I thought he was saying "unsafety", but now I get it.
We reached a first checkpoint, where the police people dismounted, and we were left with the driver and another guy I didn't know, who had been asking questions about our salaries back in the US. After we reached the point where the TucTuc driver had been waiting for us (about 15km away from the end of the road), the police people appeared again (apparently they just got into another car and followed us), and took all our pictures a few times. Me alone, my dad and I, then the driver and both of us. Apparently the driver was a suspect as well. Luckily though, the police wanted nothing more of us, and they dismissed all of us, at which point the TucTuc driver took off, back towards Rameswaram town proper.
When we were heading back, the driver complained for a while. "I'm in big trouble sir. Tomorrow I have to go to the police and make a declaration. My car, my license, I don't know what they'll do, sir". I was suddenly quite taken with the driver's point of view. No one had done anything wrong, but suspicion could cause him to get into some kind of blacklist. My dad was just plain happy, though. The TucTuc came back! This is a blessing! I told him "I'm concerned about the driver". He said "nah, come on, he just needs to make some kind of declaration. Just give him like 200 extra for the time". I thought his nonchalance was pretty rude to him, so I thought I'd just give him what he asked for.
Which was 1200 rupees. 1300, if we count the initial 100 we put in for "petrol". I thought the time and worry he used on us was well worth that. He dropped us off at an area with several hotels, and we ended up staying at Anandha Lodge. 700 a night for two people, bed well-big enough for both of us, and spots to charge our electronics. It even has a color TV - not that we use it. The place has a big fan and a white neon light, both of which stayed on for most of the night. Not a bad deal.
We're leaving Rameswaram today on the train at 11:50AM, and going back to Madurai to get the results of the Naadi readings. Afterwards we're training back all the way to Delhi if we like the timing of it, and if we can still have 3 full days left over staying at the Patal Buvaneshwar caves. Otherwise, we might just fly it back.
We still managed to join the chants at 5:15AM, the chants at 6:00 AM, the Prema Yajna at 6:20, say personal goodbyes to Amma, and catch the bus to Madurai at a few minutes past 7:00 AM.
One colorful bus ride later, we were in Madurai, sitting down at a restaurant having breakfast. My dad asked for two rations of milk, and I drank Masala milk and had some rice with three kinds of spices. 122 rupees later and some bad directions from the shop owners to get to the Naadi reader, we were walking through some ceremonial procession. It had men hanging from hooks attached to their skins on their backs and legs, placed on top of a moving car, and some other men had long metallic bars, of about 5-6 meters long, pierced through both their cheeks. Other people wore colors of orange, green, and yellow on their skin, and walked along with them. Colorful indeed.
We walked about 2km through the winding streets, frequently missing the turn or taking it too early. We managed to get a SIM card along the way for 1200 rupees, though, and then I got 8000 out of an ATM to resupply us along the way. Then I convinced my dad to get a TucTuc and to have them help us get there today. It turns out we were walking towards the wrong place. The TucTuc took us to the Nadii reading place - about 15-20km away, I'd say. The driver waited for us to finish to take us back, while we ourselves waited inside for them to finish some Pujja, then kind of bartered our way to "only" paying 1500 rupees for a single Canto reading, instead of the full 12+4 cantos at 1500 rupees each, plus the Mahasiva reading, 2500 rupees worth. 26500 rupees to supposedly know my entire future? My dad seemed less thrilled about it anyway, so we went with only the first Canto, he wrote down all my details on a piece of paper (dates, places, family members, relationship status, etc). It was like a Facebook profile on a piece of paper, plus my thumb print with purple ink. Supposedly there will be results to look at tomorrow.
We paid the TucTuc driver 800 in total for the ride there and back, plus the waiting. Once at the railway station, we got our tickets to Rameshwaram for 70 rupees, and we got in the train. It was about 12:15 by then.
At 12:30 almost-sharp, the train took off, and we found cozy overhead beds on the luggage shelves above the usual benches. Both my dad and I fell asleep. About 2-3 hours later, I woke up and started pacing our wagon up and down. We were crossing the bridge to Rameshwaram at the time, and the ocean water splashing against the rocks and platform, sparkling as the bright beach sun hit it from all angles, was a very pretty sight.
We arrived at Rameshwaram at about 4:30PM, at which time we walked out and found a TucTuc. He asked us where we were going, and we said "Dhanushkodi", since that's the only name that our low-res map has for the end of the piece of land left from the bridge that once joined India and Sri Lanka. The first TucTuc said "oh no, that's closed at 5PM", so we kept on walking. The second offered to take us to Dhanushkodi beach and back for 600, and we agreed. When we got to the beach, he said he'd wait for us for about half an hour, then we'd go back. My dad was adamant that we wanted to walk all the way to the end, though, and the driver didn't completely refuse it. He just said "I wait half an hour", while we said "we'll need more, at least two hours", and left it in that ambiguous state. That was at about 5:30PM.
3 hours later, we had walked past beautiful sunset and full-moonrise along a single long road, bordered by the splashing Indian Ocean on our right, the tranquil Bay of Bengal on our left, and remnants of houses, churches, temples, water tanks, and other buildings, whose desolate state we attributed to the effect of the Tsunami we apparently remember from a few years back. This road took us to Dhanushkodi - a fishing town - and beyond, past a sign that said "NO ENTRY", but at which the seeming gatekeeper told us it was OK to just walk by. So we walked past it, and the road just kept going, several times after we thought it looked as if it was almost ending. It took us past the end of the paved road, past the end of the gravel road, past the end of the packed mud road, past a completely sandy section to another mud road, and finally onto a beach at the very end, with nowhere else to go but into the sea. Perhaps we were hoping the bridge to Sri Lanka had already been completed. But it wasn't, so we would have to go back to Rameshwaram all the way.
We thought we would take our shoes off, splash around in the water a little bit, perhaps perform a few chants or prayers honoring the significance of the place (if not only its uniqueness), but we couldn't quite get to it. Just as we began thinking about how we should honor the moment and the accomplishment, we saw a white flashlight pointing in our direction, and slowly getting closer. My spidey sense triggered when I saw three seemingly-organized men, apparently fishermen, walking tentatively in our direction. They barely spoke any English words, but the dialogue, from our perspective, basically went like thism (hindi dialogue intentionally made up):
- "Chiku tanta ladla pladesh" (what the heck are you doing here?)
- We came walking from Rameshwaram, and we wanted to see the end of the road (gesturing to the near sea).
- "Tata li plaj chaku. Where you go?"
- Well, right after this, we're going to walk back to Rameshwaram (with finger walking gesture).
- "Now? Late, no taxi."
- That's ok, we'll just walk back to Rameshwaram.
- (They kinda look at each other, a bit puzzled, not quite believing us. Points to one of our plastic bags with a stick). "Pakila. He?" (What's in the bag?)
- Oh, we just have sandals (pointing to our feet). You know, to put on our feet.
- "Padukas!", my dad adds shouting, though I'm not sure which language that word is in. "I just want to put my feet at the end of the Hanuman bridge! Just a minute!", so he takes his shoes off and walks into the sea; begins chanting towards the full moon.
- (I open up the bags and show them. I show them the sandals and the towel inside).
- (They point to my backpack with the stick and kinda look like they want to open it). "You have biscuits?"
- I'm a bit puzzled, thinking they might be hungry, but we have no food. "No, we don't have any food (gesturing lack of capability with shrugged shoulders, shaking head, pursed lips, and upward palms). I think we have sugar. Do you want sugar?" (They don't seem interested at all).
- "Takela kamla lahala he. You, back to Rameshwaram?"
- Yes yes, we can go back now. Papi, ya nos regresamos?
- Sí, ya! Sólo dejame ponerme mis zapatos.
So a few minutes later, we're walking back on the road, but the three guys are kinda circling around us, between us, but I'm not sure what they're trying to do. If they wanted to rob us, they could've easily done it while we were standing at the end of the beach. But they just kinda hovered among us, a little intentionally annoyingly. Eventually my dad did get annoyed and told them "you, walk first, and we walk later, ok?", while we took a few steps behind them. They kinda looked at each other, and I thought his proposal was ill-timed, considering their apparent mistrust towards us (and relative overnumerousness). Luckily he then said "or maybe better, we walk first, and you walk later". That seemed better, and they let us walk on a bit faster than them. Then they could always keep an eye on us, if that's what they wanted.
So we walked ahead for about 5 minutes or so, at which point a short man with a thick mustache and also a fisherman's attire approached us pretty stealthily with some kind of bamboo stick, and stopped us on the road, telling us "hello, can I see your IDs please?" Still riddled with mistrust, I reluctantly showed him my passport. He said "I'm part of secret police", and I thought we had walked into a more complex situation than we were aware of. He asked us a few questions, verified we were from the USA as our passports said, then slid off into the night. He came back once more to ask us some other questions, then slid off again. Then one more time, and I wondered whether he was just verifying what we had told them, or was somehow looking for some kind of tip money - for letting us go or something. In any case, the third time he slid off for good, shouting "Go America!" or something, and we continued walking.
We still walked for about 10 more minutes, and I mentioned how a very tall cellphone tower we had seen on the way there was still not even visible at all. We both felt ready to walk the whole way back, but after a little while, an orange light began heading towards us, and out came 4 people, all of them excitedly asking us stuff, but this time in English (with marked indian accents).
It turns out the TucTuc driver whom we left waiting, who I had almost assumed had simply left after we didn't come back for hours on end, had notified the police about us (or they had found him), and they'd come searching for us. I recognized the driver only when he said, in a worried voice: "I told you, you walk only half an hour on the beach! I wait for you, and what time is it? It's past 8! I wait for you long time, police come!"
What we did not know at the time was that the place we were in was an area known for smuggling. Not sure what or whom was smuggled there, but we were at that time suspects for smuggling. "You're here at night, but it's forbidden! You come with us, we make a police enquiry!" Only at that point I understood what the faux-fishermen along the beach were doing. They were poking our bags, looking for smuggled goods (drugs? weapons? Dunno), but they didn't really need to open them, since they were relatively small (carry-on size).
I was understandably concerned that this situation might pose a problem for the rest of our night, but my dad seemed ecstatic. "We can ride with you back in the TucTuc? Oh, thank you, thank you!" And so we did. The police people asked us questions on the way back, mostly about where we were from, and what we were doing there, but they seemed almost certain we weren't smugglers at that point. Still, they eyed us with suspicion from time to time, and one of them told us "Sir, you shouldn't be out here at night. You should think of your own safety! Own safety!" I thought he was saying "unsafety", but now I get it.
We reached a first checkpoint, where the police people dismounted, and we were left with the driver and another guy I didn't know, who had been asking questions about our salaries back in the US. After we reached the point where the TucTuc driver had been waiting for us (about 15km away from the end of the road), the police people appeared again (apparently they just got into another car and followed us), and took all our pictures a few times. Me alone, my dad and I, then the driver and both of us. Apparently the driver was a suspect as well. Luckily though, the police wanted nothing more of us, and they dismissed all of us, at which point the TucTuc driver took off, back towards Rameswaram town proper.
When we were heading back, the driver complained for a while. "I'm in big trouble sir. Tomorrow I have to go to the police and make a declaration. My car, my license, I don't know what they'll do, sir". I was suddenly quite taken with the driver's point of view. No one had done anything wrong, but suspicion could cause him to get into some kind of blacklist. My dad was just plain happy, though. The TucTuc came back! This is a blessing! I told him "I'm concerned about the driver". He said "nah, come on, he just needs to make some kind of declaration. Just give him like 200 extra for the time". I thought his nonchalance was pretty rude to him, so I thought I'd just give him what he asked for.
Which was 1200 rupees. 1300, if we count the initial 100 we put in for "petrol". I thought the time and worry he used on us was well worth that. He dropped us off at an area with several hotels, and we ended up staying at Anandha Lodge. 700 a night for two people, bed well-big enough for both of us, and spots to charge our electronics. It even has a color TV - not that we use it. The place has a big fan and a white neon light, both of which stayed on for most of the night. Not a bad deal.
We're leaving Rameswaram today on the train at 11:50AM, and going back to Madurai to get the results of the Naadi readings. Afterwards we're training back all the way to Delhi if we like the timing of it, and if we can still have 3 full days left over staying at the Patal Buvaneshwar caves. Otherwise, we might just fly it back.
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