Over the ages, great sages like Gautama, Kapila, and Kashyapa meditated at the spot where vishnu practised penance, earning for the place, the name of Badrikashram or hermitage of the sages
It is that time of the year when the soaring mercury packs people off to cooler climes of the Himalayas.
Among them, the devout prefer to hit the pilgrim circuit of Chardham, the four sacred abodes of gods in Uttarakhand — Yamunotri, Gangotri, Badrinath and Kedarnath. This circuit was once known as Chota Chardham as it was smaller, as compared to the original chardham of Badrinath, Dwarka, Jagannath Puri and Rameshwaram that covers the four directions in the sub-continent.
It is still daybreak at Badrinath but the narrow footbridge leading up to the temple is crowded. Below, the Alaknanda river roars and gushes through the valley and past the bathing ghats, tumbling over rocks, fringed by milky white foam, but the pilgrims have no time to admire her. Amidst intermittent shouts of "Jai Badri Vishal" — Victory to the Lord at Badri — their focus is fixed firmly on the brightly coloured temple just above the river. For many, this is the journey of a life time.
Hermitage of sages
Once, Vishnu let his consort, Lakshmi, massage his feet. A sage, who was passing by, chastised Vishnu for "giving in to earthly pleasures". Fearing further wrath of the sage, Vishnu fled to the mountains and practised penance and meditation under a Badri Tree (Berry Tree). Little did he know that the tree was Lakshmi in disguise. The story goes that Lakshmi requested her husband to give up his penance — which Vishnu did — on the promise that the place where he had meditated would remain a valley for meditating ascetics.
Lakshmi agreed, and over the ages, great sages like Gautama, Kapila, and Kashyapa have meditated here, earning for the place the name of Badrikashram or the hermitage of the sages.
Whatever the truth in the legend, one look at the peaceful landscape is enough to convince you that the hills and valleys surrounding Badrinath are ideal for meditation.
The town is set against the towering snow-clad peaks that seem to stretch forever and ever, until you lose them in the distant azure skies of Tibet. From a gap in these mountains, the Alaknanda cuts her way through a valley that broadens and then narrows as it enters Badrinath. Above this valley, beautiful meadows rise gradually at first, and then sharply into jagged bluffs; behind one of them, dressed in brilliant white is the Neelkant peak, named after Shiva. Look closely at this peak and you will notice a long, narrow ridge that starts just below the peak, sloping quite a way down the face of the mountain, giving the whole peak the look of Ganesha, the god with the elephant head and trunk.
Jumble of colours
At first glance, Badrinath looks like any other town in these parts: a jumble of colourful houses, shops, bazars and dhabas and a bus stand, in the lap of the mountains. But as you walk deeper into the town, you can feel religious fervour in the air. The silence of the mountains gives way to the jingle of Radhe Radhe Radhe Barsane Wali Radhe.
The Badrinath Temple sits above the left bank of the Alaknanda. It was built originally over an image of Vishnu that Adi Shankara found here — guided by Vishnu in his dream — in the 9th century. Over the centuries, the temple was rebuilt and embellished many times by the kings of Garhwal and Jaipur and Queen Ahilyabai of Indore.
The temple looks Buddhist. Its brightly coloured facade is ornate and I stood there admiring the little coloured bits that have come together to make it look like a Lego house. Meanwhile, the crowd swelled. I joined them and we funnelled through the mandapa at the entrance holding punnets of prasadam or offerings that contained walnuts, fake dollar bills, pieces of red and gold cloth, sugar candy and different kinds of grain on our heads. As we moved slowly, I noticed that many are still sopping wet from the dip they have had at the Narada Kund.
The mandapa leads to a large flag-stoned courtyard in the centre of which is the garbha griha or the sanctum sanctorum. The doors were shut but that did not deter the queue from looping around the main shrine. Surrounding the courtyard was a pillared verandah with space wide enough for pilgrims to sit and wait. Most of the pilgrims, I notice, were from southern India, particularly from Tamil Nadu. They were all chanting shlokas from their prayer books, looking expectantly at the temple door.
I started chatting with one of the pilgrims. "I am from Chennai. Badrinath is at the top of my must-do list of pilgrimages," she said. Why? "It's the place established by my Paramacharya's (the older Shankaracharya of the Kanchi Kamakoti Mutt) Guru", she says, referring to Adi Shankara.
The loudspeaker crackled and announced that the garbha griha will open for darshan shortly. Immediately, the pilgrims sprang to their feet, the queue straightened and prayer books were put away. Through the doors, one could hear the sound of preparations in process inside: Vishnu as Badrinarayan, was being readied to receive his devotees. The chief priest here is a Rawal Namboodhiri Brahmin from Kerala (a tradition started by Shankara).
Finally, the large, wooden doors opened and one got a glimpse of the sanctum sanctorum: The jewelled black stone image of Vishnu — as Badrinarayan or the Lord of Badrinath, seated in Padmasana — the posture in which he meditated. It is to see this image that the crowds have travelled from across India. It also didn't matter that they were being jostled and pushed and shoved as they burst in through the gates.
What mattered was that they managed to get a glimpse of their dear Vishnu as Badri. Jai Badri Vishal!
toi
It is that time of the year when the soaring mercury packs people off to cooler climes of the Himalayas.
Among them, the devout prefer to hit the pilgrim circuit of Chardham, the four sacred abodes of gods in Uttarakhand — Yamunotri, Gangotri, Badrinath and Kedarnath. This circuit was once known as Chota Chardham as it was smaller, as compared to the original chardham of Badrinath, Dwarka, Jagannath Puri and Rameshwaram that covers the four directions in the sub-continent.
It is still daybreak at Badrinath but the narrow footbridge leading up to the temple is crowded. Below, the Alaknanda river roars and gushes through the valley and past the bathing ghats, tumbling over rocks, fringed by milky white foam, but the pilgrims have no time to admire her. Amidst intermittent shouts of "Jai Badri Vishal" — Victory to the Lord at Badri — their focus is fixed firmly on the brightly coloured temple just above the river. For many, this is the journey of a life time.
Hermitage of sages
Once, Vishnu let his consort, Lakshmi, massage his feet. A sage, who was passing by, chastised Vishnu for "giving in to earthly pleasures". Fearing further wrath of the sage, Vishnu fled to the mountains and practised penance and meditation under a Badri Tree (Berry Tree). Little did he know that the tree was Lakshmi in disguise. The story goes that Lakshmi requested her husband to give up his penance — which Vishnu did — on the promise that the place where he had meditated would remain a valley for meditating ascetics.
Lakshmi agreed, and over the ages, great sages like Gautama, Kapila, and Kashyapa have meditated here, earning for the place the name of Badrikashram or the hermitage of the sages.
Whatever the truth in the legend, one look at the peaceful landscape is enough to convince you that the hills and valleys surrounding Badrinath are ideal for meditation.
The town is set against the towering snow-clad peaks that seem to stretch forever and ever, until you lose them in the distant azure skies of Tibet. From a gap in these mountains, the Alaknanda cuts her way through a valley that broadens and then narrows as it enters Badrinath. Above this valley, beautiful meadows rise gradually at first, and then sharply into jagged bluffs; behind one of them, dressed in brilliant white is the Neelkant peak, named after Shiva. Look closely at this peak and you will notice a long, narrow ridge that starts just below the peak, sloping quite a way down the face of the mountain, giving the whole peak the look of Ganesha, the god with the elephant head and trunk.
Jumble of colours
At first glance, Badrinath looks like any other town in these parts: a jumble of colourful houses, shops, bazars and dhabas and a bus stand, in the lap of the mountains. But as you walk deeper into the town, you can feel religious fervour in the air. The silence of the mountains gives way to the jingle of Radhe Radhe Radhe Barsane Wali Radhe.
The Badrinath Temple sits above the left bank of the Alaknanda. It was built originally over an image of Vishnu that Adi Shankara found here — guided by Vishnu in his dream — in the 9th century. Over the centuries, the temple was rebuilt and embellished many times by the kings of Garhwal and Jaipur and Queen Ahilyabai of Indore.
The temple looks Buddhist. Its brightly coloured facade is ornate and I stood there admiring the little coloured bits that have come together to make it look like a Lego house. Meanwhile, the crowd swelled. I joined them and we funnelled through the mandapa at the entrance holding punnets of prasadam or offerings that contained walnuts, fake dollar bills, pieces of red and gold cloth, sugar candy and different kinds of grain on our heads. As we moved slowly, I noticed that many are still sopping wet from the dip they have had at the Narada Kund.
The mandapa leads to a large flag-stoned courtyard in the centre of which is the garbha griha or the sanctum sanctorum. The doors were shut but that did not deter the queue from looping around the main shrine. Surrounding the courtyard was a pillared verandah with space wide enough for pilgrims to sit and wait. Most of the pilgrims, I notice, were from southern India, particularly from Tamil Nadu. They were all chanting shlokas from their prayer books, looking expectantly at the temple door.
I started chatting with one of the pilgrims. "I am from Chennai. Badrinath is at the top of my must-do list of pilgrimages," she said. Why? "It's the place established by my Paramacharya's (the older Shankaracharya of the Kanchi Kamakoti Mutt) Guru", she says, referring to Adi Shankara.
The loudspeaker crackled and announced that the garbha griha will open for darshan shortly. Immediately, the pilgrims sprang to their feet, the queue straightened and prayer books were put away. Through the doors, one could hear the sound of preparations in process inside: Vishnu as Badrinarayan, was being readied to receive his devotees. The chief priest here is a Rawal Namboodhiri Brahmin from Kerala (a tradition started by Shankara).
Finally, the large, wooden doors opened and one got a glimpse of the sanctum sanctorum: The jewelled black stone image of Vishnu — as Badrinarayan or the Lord of Badrinath, seated in Padmasana — the posture in which he meditated. It is to see this image that the crowds have travelled from across India. It also didn't matter that they were being jostled and pushed and shoved as they burst in through the gates.
What mattered was that they managed to get a glimpse of their dear Vishnu as Badri. Jai Badri Vishal!
toi
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