Windmills of the Gods
Thinking about it now, the most interesting part of my backpacking trip through tirumala was the trip down the hill; from the valley housing the temple all the way to the township below.
Took me all of 3 + hours, trudging with my backpack with the sun shining on my recently inaugurated bald pate. It was quite a comfortable walk down actually, listening to the birds and the devotees trudging up the hill road uttering “govinda govinda”. The view was quite expectedly magnificent, the valley outlined in the sunshine, the mottled greens of the forests hugging the stone cliffs swaying in the breeze, quite a tranquil affair from the noisy hill top i had just left behind…
Now what i didn’t know was that this place also housed a windmill farm, i guess that’s what they were; huge gigantic windmills, white in color positioned on top of the hills; moving slowly at their own lazy pace. Unmindful of the chaotic world around them.
Glad to know at least some things in this world don’t have to abide by a 9 to 5 schedule or deadlines set by our masters across different timezones.
Took me all of 3 + hours, trudging with my backpack with the sun shining on my recently inaugurated bald pate. It was quite a comfortable walk down actually, listening to the birds and the devotees trudging up the hill road uttering “govinda govinda”. The view was quite expectedly magnificent, the valley outlined in the sunshine, the mottled greens of the forests hugging the stone cliffs swaying in the breeze, quite a tranquil affair from the noisy hill top i had just left behind…
Now what i didn’t know was that this place also housed a windmill farm, i guess that’s what they were; huge gigantic windmills, white in color positioned on top of the hills; moving slowly at their own lazy pace. Unmindful of the chaotic world around them.
Glad to know at least some things in this world don’t have to abide by a 9 to 5 schedule or deadlines set by our masters across different timezones.
Coming to think about it, who wouldn’t want to be a wind mill eh? Perched on top of the hill, enjoying the view and feeling the breeze sifting through your blades, with no care or concern to wake you from your state of bliss. Just keep your blades moving with the wind, that’s all a windmill is expected to do. No filing of reports, no focal year end appraisals, no deadlines...just swing your blades dudes, now there’s a good windmill.
To me it looks like the windmill is having a conversation with the breeze, asking it where it has come from , its destination, exchanging dialogue on what both have seen and heard, though this might be limited from the windmill’s perspective.
Keep watch over these holy hills from your lofty positions, let the winds whisper the secrets of its journeys into your ears.
Let them inform you of the rain clouds arriving over the hills to the east, or of the flocks of migrating swallows sweeping over your lofty cliffs.
There you stand, my majestic white guardians of the hills, a damn mighty sight you are for the sore eyes,
Breaking the monotony of the greens and light greens and the dark greens and the olive greens and the browns and the light browns and the mottled yellows covering the flanks of these hills.
Coming down, one can see a small covered viewing platform by the side of the road, a little below the road level, accessible by a few narrow steps. The view from there compensates quite well for my toils.Good place to sit and recharge oneself, but wish people didn’t have to litter so much. What’s with us and litter anyway? There was a humble dustbin perched on a pillar nearby but wonder of wonders, that miserable bin was the only litter free location in that whole viewing perch.
Back to the view, one could see the entire valley from here; the left boundary of the vision is marked by the almost vertically rising rock flanking the hills stretching all the way across.
The hills stretch out into the horizon vaporizing in the mist that refuses to let go off these hills, even at mid day with the sun beating down on it.
As the day progresses, i see more devotees trudging up the road. I seem to be the only one actually coming down. The nature appreciation continues only till one reaches the part where the concrete steps begin. That’s where the descent becomes interesting. The laws of physics state that it is easier and less taxing on the legs while descending than while climbing, easy for you to say mr. newton!!! You didn’t have to use your locomotive faculties on the holy concrete steps hills of holy tirumala.
At some points the steps are so steep that I have to go down slowly one step at a time, stepping down with both my feet on each concrete step. I keep reading the numbers embossed on the steps as I go down...4000…3700…3500…and these are the number of steps remaining to the bottom. Lord Venky better favour us devotees with some special favors, isn’t that why we are here in this place? So that we can gain brownie points when we meet our maker up there or down there ; though I seem more likely to meet the evaluators of my karma down-there than
up-anywhere.
Keep watch over these holy hills from your lofty positions, let the winds whisper the secrets of its journeys into your ears.
Let them inform you of the rain clouds arriving over the hills to the east, or of the flocks of migrating swallows sweeping over your lofty cliffs.
There you stand, my majestic white guardians of the hills, a damn mighty sight you are for the sore eyes,
Breaking the monotony of the greens and light greens and the dark greens and the olive greens and the browns and the light browns and the mottled yellows covering the flanks of these hills.
Coming down, one can see a small covered viewing platform by the side of the road, a little below the road level, accessible by a few narrow steps. The view from there compensates quite well for my toils.Good place to sit and recharge oneself, but wish people didn’t have to litter so much. What’s with us and litter anyway? There was a humble dustbin perched on a pillar nearby but wonder of wonders, that miserable bin was the only litter free location in that whole viewing perch.
Back to the view, one could see the entire valley from here; the left boundary of the vision is marked by the almost vertically rising rock flanking the hills stretching all the way across.
The hills stretch out into the horizon vaporizing in the mist that refuses to let go off these hills, even at mid day with the sun beating down on it.
As the day progresses, i see more devotees trudging up the road. I seem to be the only one actually coming down. The nature appreciation continues only till one reaches the part where the concrete steps begin. That’s where the descent becomes interesting. The laws of physics state that it is easier and less taxing on the legs while descending than while climbing, easy for you to say mr. newton!!! You didn’t have to use your locomotive faculties on the holy concrete steps hills of holy tirumala.
At some points the steps are so steep that I have to go down slowly one step at a time, stepping down with both my feet on each concrete step. I keep reading the numbers embossed on the steps as I go down...4000…3700…3500…and these are the number of steps remaining to the bottom. Lord Venky better favour us devotees with some special favors, isn’t that why we are here in this place? So that we can gain brownie points when we meet our maker up there or down there ; though I seem more likely to meet the evaluators of my karma down-there than
up-anywhere.
Funny thing, me was wondering why do we even flock to places like tirumala, sabrimala,badrinath and the like? What drives us make the arduous pilgrimage to these places, places which moreover have been judiciously positioned in the more not-so-easily accessibly locations of our subcontinent?
I guess there is a lot that can be said here, throwing
I guess there is a lot that can be said here, throwing
around words like karma, redemption and multiple
references to our much too ancient culture etc…but
references to our much too ancient culture etc…but
at the grassroots isn’t it just a desire to achieve
moksha (the part where our tortured souls are
released after the demise of our physical bodies) for which we visit these holy places and attempt to trade our bad karma by prostrating our humble selves before the gods; hoping that they will overlook our misdeeds and forgive us for our follies. After all, aren’t we all his/her ‘children’…and children are allowed to make mistakes.
Till my next sin, adios.
Till my next sin, adios.
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