A day in the life of LIFE

Nestled away from the bustling IT hub of Bangalore, and about 20 kms from the regal erstwhile kingdom of Mysore, is the temple town of Nanjangud.

The town in addition to its religious fervour, also plays host to a number of small scale industries including paper and sugar mills.

Situated on the banks of the river Kapila, Nanjangud literally translates to "the residing place of Lord Nanjundeshwara or Lord Shiva". Originally believed to have been built during the period of the Ganga dynasty (325-1000 CE), it has over the years received patronage from Haider Ali and Tippu Sultan(who referred to the deity as Hakim Nanjunda) and has come to be known as Dakshin Kashi (Kashi of the South) as well.

Having proximity to the famous Chamundi hills and the wildlife sanctuaries of Bandipur and Madumalai,of course not to forget the famous royal palace and the engineering miracle of the KRS resevoir, Nanjangud is a favourite of devotees and tourists alike. With the four-laning of State Highway 17 that connects Bengalooru to Mysore, getting here takes less than two and a half hours from the state capital.

Clubbing the visit to the temple with a family wedding was the best utilisation of time that could have been possible. The presiding deity is the griha devata (family God) of most Shaivites including sankethis, who came to reside in the surrounding villages, over the past several hundred years.

The visit happened Sunday, last, with the entire bandwagon of relatives hopping onto a tempo traveler, that pretty much did justice to the inviting stretch of road ahead of us. With one brief stop at Maddur Tiffany's to grab a quick bite of the famed Maddur vada (the lesser cousin of the ubiquotous Medu vada), we reached the temple at quarter to Eleven.

Being a Sunday, the population that had descended to the town was immense, and we managed to avail the tickets for the "special" darshan, which has now become a common place at all major religious establishments with the spread of capitalism.

Nonetheless, the devotional songs that filled the air, the common rush at the temple premises, the automated bells and drums for the Maha aarti, the state bank ATMs chequered across the town,the motley shops that stacked up orange flavored concotions in Limca bottles, the universal temple elepahnts, the narrow bylanes, with some evidence of a rail guage conversion, all presented the picture of a town that depite being deep rooted in tradition was trying to catch up with the progress the surrounding cities had achieved.

Even as the driver Chandru tried to avoid a biological speed breaker (yes, cows do move as per their free will), I was brought out of my reverie, as we headed to the land of the Wodeyars, the royal state of Mysore, that for long has stood as a force that gave the British Imperialists a run for their money.

Some images of Nanjangud, below... A day in the life of India...

Apologies for not having blogged for quite sometime now. Life's been a little more than a roller coaster ride, with my status of existence oscillating over the last few weeks like the crests and troughs of a perfect sine wave.

Nonetheless, the primary point is that I am right now seated in the comfortable environs of "home" in the truest sense of the word, after a long gap of 8 months.

Yes, please go ahead. Join Ma and bring out the "Oh My God !! you have been away and have not visited home for 8 months, do you even remember the way back?" phrases that I have been listening to already. Well, Delhi and Bangalore are not sister cities that I could do a "hop-skip-jump" antic and land on my comfy sofa watching TV (that's my prized possession and noone messes with me over that other than my lovable grannies), munching on hot pakodas flavored with Maa ki Mamta...all portraying the picture of filmy Utopia that one longs to experience.

Eventually, this weekend, I was in Bengalooru, enroute to Mysore for a cousin's wedding. Rising air fares, courtesy the recent consolidation in the aviation industry has made me to choose from the best of the worst available. Jet Airways, for whatever it's worth, burnt a meteor hole through my pocket. And a salary so low that it prevents me from even doing window shopping, has made matters worse.

The last couple of days have been quite hectic owing to the usual din and pomp associated with every Indian wedding. But on the sidelines of the wedding, I have realised that coming back to a place of your own, one that you've evolved with, brings back the feeling of nostalgia. One realises that the smallest of things that were once taken for granted tend to be more valued when one gets back to them.

The call of the local sabzi wallah, The kids playing on the street who time and again annoy dad by breaking window panes, The neighbors' courteous enquiry,the "Mungaru Male" song that plays in the local barber shop, the fragrance of the "Mallige" flowers that adorn the verandah, the vibrations emnating from Ma's 5 a.m. prayers, M.S. Subbulaxmi's melody that flows from the 1998 BPL player,all this and more, have made me realise that God lies in the details.

It's a good feeling to be back home, a feeling of peace and quiete, a feeling that people acknowledge your existence, and more importantly, the feeling of authority that one can probably exercise in one's backyard, more than anywhere else.

Touching down at Bangalore has never felt so great as this, after a long sojourn at New Delhi. And even as the rest of the Duniya goes "Oot Patanga", right from Pratibha Patil's Presidential credentials to the Taj being voted into the 7 wonders of the world, I am blissfully resting on dad's couch, digging into a new book that I picked up on Saturday titled "Jalebi Management". More on the book and a review of the same later...

Till then, home is where the heart is.....*Yawn*