The Hand That Feeds

Karnataka is a beautiful land of temples, heritage monuments, tea and coffee estates, waterfalls and the undulating Western Ghats. But this is not a travel brochure. I want to write about the people and the experiences I have had here recently. After months of hard work, we were given a short break at the office. Instead of heading home to Chennai, I thought of visiting some of the ancient and powerful temples on the coast of Karnataka. It took me to the districts of Udupi and Dakshina Kannada, about 400 km from the state capital of Bengaluru.I had picked up a smattering of Kannada, at least enough to make basic enquiries about food, direction, time and so on. I could understand the local language, but not converse fluently. Nonetheless, I did not want it to be a barrier, and picked up my bags to make this short but long awaited trip. As cliche as it sounds, it was like the Mother was calling me. On my list were the temples of Sri Manjunatha at Dharmasthala, Sri Subrahmanya at Kukke, Sri Sharadamba at Sringeri, Sri Annapoorneswari at Horanadu, Sri Krishna at Udupi and Sri Mookambika at Kollur.Though on Google Maps the distances between the temples are about 2-3 hours from one another, the route takes us past the Western Ghats, and the winding roads slow the journey. Being a solo traveller, I opted to go by public buses and state transport rather than arrange a private taxi or hire a car and drive everywhere by myself. It was peak summer in mid-May. The bus journeys were sticky, hot and crowded. Somehow, I always got a seat or people made space for me. They could see a lone woman travelling alone and, in most cases, than not, they tried their best to keep me at ease and make small talk..The 3-4 hour journeys would leave me dehydrated and tired even before I reached the temples. Nonetheless, picking up new enthusiasm after seeing the temple roofs, the kumbha or the archways, I would go and join the serpentine queues of devotees eagerly waiting for a glimpse of Shiva, Krishna or Devi. Snaking our way to the sanctum sanctorum, there would be another 2-3 hours that would go in just standing and looking around. The darshan itself would be for less than a minute. Since the temples are so old and significant, the vibe itself would suffice to feel satiated, despite the heat and the crowds.Invariably, all these temples housed annakshetras or dining halls that would feed breakfast, lunch or dinner to the hordes of devotees who came during those times. No questions asked. No coupons provided or collected. Irrespective of one’s race, caste, class or any other identity marker, we were ushered in and served hot, hygienic and tasty meals..At Dharmasthala, Sringeri and Kollur where I got my lunch over the three days, thousands and thousands of people were served at one go. It was a simple, divine lunch of rice, rasam, sambar, some vegetables, buttermilk and payasam. But the back-breaking service of the volunteers really got me thinking. To bend down and serve thousands of people every few hours is no small deal. The temple administration itself must account for cooking for so many visitors and devotees everyday. But I didn’t see a single person frowning or frustrated despite the physical labour of the act. Maybe it is this love which makes the food prasadam. While I rejoiced in the simple meals, I couldn’t help but wonder how many temples and gurudwaras across the country feed people every single day. Though the langars of the gurudwaras are well-known, these mathas do an equally good job. When there is a call for preservation of temples and there’s talk about the temple economy, it would do well to remember the yeomen service that such mathas and mandiras do for the society around them. By clamping on their funding or interfering in their administration, it is not just patronage which gets questioned. It brings to a halt the services of these places of worship which act as dining hall, a counselling centre and a classroom to thousands of devotees. We must never bite the hand that feeds us.