The Far South

Our last destination in India’s south was the Gulf of Mannar biosphere reserve.  This reserve, the first marine biosphere reserve in all of south and central Asia, encompasses 10,500 sq km of coastal waters stretching 300 km along the south-east coastline of the state of Tamil Nadu just opposite from the western coast of Sri Lanka.  Within the biosphere reserve are 21 small uninhabited islands scattered in a line parallel to the coast.  The water within 500 meters of these islands comprises the Gulf of Mannar marine national park, as well as the core area of the biosphere reserve. 

  

From the town of Ramanathapuram on the Indian mainland we travelled south-east down the length of a sandy peninsula which soon broke into a series of sand bar islands linked with bridges stretching towards Sri Lanka. At the south-eastern end of the last island is the Hindu pilgrimage town of Rameswaram, visited by worshipers of both Vishna and Shiva.  Home of both the Ramanathaswamy Temple and ghats for ocean bathing, Rameswaram is considered one of the holiest pilgrimage sites for Hindus in India and is sometimes called the “Varanasi of the south”.  

South of Rameswaram stretches a narrow spit of sand known as Adam’s Bridge.  About 10 km from town the spit disappears underwater to form a series of partially submerged limestone shoals connecting Indiaand Sri Lanka.  Geological evidence and temple records indicate that Adam’s Bridge may have been passable on foot as recently as 1480, when it was destroyed by a cyclone.   The first mention of the bridge was by its other name, Rama’s Bridge, in the ancient Indian Sanskrit epic Ramayana, which refers to a bridge built by Lord Rama’s army of ape-men to allow Rama to reach the kingdom of Lanka (Sri Lanka) to rescue his wife, Sita, from a demon king. This compelling story notwithstanding, geological evidence tells us that the bridge is a natural geological formation, not man- (or monkey) made.

A 19th century painting depicting a scene from Ramayana in which monkeys and bears are shown building a bridge to Lanka. This painting is currently in the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Image from Wikipedia Commons.

The small town of Rameswaramis full of guest house accommodation for Indian religious tourists and every day in the early morning hundreds of pilgrims make their way down to the ocean-side bathing ghat.  The low morning sun picks out bright saris in a hundred hues as women wade into the sea fully dressed to perform their ablutions. On the shore vendors sell puja offerings – coconuts and marigolds in baskets made of woven leaves. Young men point their cell phone cameras at us as we try but fail to blend into the crowd.  Down the beach a pig roots in a rotting pile of sea flotsam and beyond a rocky seawall several men defecate on the beach.  Hundreds of moored fishing boats line the horizon, inactive due to the strictly enforced fishing ban observed in Tamil Nadu and Kerala from April 15^th to June 1^st.  During this time, changing water current patters result in a nutrient bloom that feeds young fish and is critical in ensuring continuing fish stocks.  Because of the seasonal ban, the beaches and wharfs are crowded with men, either engaged in repairs of nets and boats or resting under the shade of their boats drawn up onto the beach. 

We wander the shore, speaking with fishermen, admiring the catch of small boats not affected by the ban. Eventually we are driven by hunger and the heat of the rising sun into a small dhaba in search of breakfast.  South Indian parottas were on the menu – flaky flatbread beaten just a little bit to separate the layers. Sitting right next to the cooking station, every few minutes our table shook with a bang bang bang as the cook slammed his fist down repeatedly on a pile of fresh parottas. Waving away the flies, we consumed parottas and omelets from broad banana leaf plates, and then staggered home to nap during the heat of the south Indian afternoon. 

At the Rat Temple

So in addition to camel trekking, while R. and I were in Rajasthan we also visited the Rat Temple and Junagarh Fort and...what?  What did you say?  The Rat Temple?  Yeah, it's this Hindu temple, officially called the Karni Mata temple in Deshnoke, about 30km outside of Bikaner.  Are there rats there, you say?  Well, yeah, it's called the Rat Temple, after all.  How many?  Hundreds, at least! Probably thousands all up in the walls and creepy-crawling through the basement. 


Karni Mata was a 14^th century mystic and supposedly an incarnation of the Hindu goddess Durga.  One day a storyteller she was in love with died, and she appealed to Yama, the god of death, to bring him back to life.  Yama refused, and in revenge Karni Mata reincarnated the dead man as a rat under her protection, and subsequently all storytellers. How romantic.

The temple is full of them, running around all nimbly-bimbly on the floor, popping in and out of holes in the temple walls, and feeding at big bowls of milk on the floor.  Like all Hindi temples, you have to take your shoes off before entering. In most cases this is not at all a problem, but at the Karni Mata temple it made me cringe, due to the floor being somewhat besplattered with rat and pigeon droppings. 

  

Although several tour groups came and went while we were there, the temple is very much an active place of worship and not just a tourist attraction.  A number of devotees sat on the floor around the temple grounds, each with a prayer book and various treats for the rats. One gentleman (picture above) had a friendly rat perched between his shoulder blades as he studied.

I thought the whole thing was kinda cool, but R. was disappointed.  In his imagination, the temple should have looked more like something from "The Temple of Doom" and, from 100 meters, should have appeared to be moving due to the sheer number of rats crawling on it.  The reality was a bit tamer, but still enough to give fits to the squeamish. 

And then on the way back to Bikaner, we had to jump off the bus in the middle of nowhere due to the sudden onset of a gastrointestinal ailment specific to India, if you know what I mean.  It was a busy day. 

            

In the courtyard of the Rat Temple.

Like a rat that's got the cream.

It's as if the place was build for them.....oh wait, it was.