Day 8- Achanakmar - Sirpur

We have been on the road for 8 days now, one day merging into the next. On the ninth day of our trip, I am sitting in the quiet courtyard garden in our resort at Sirpur, catching up on my writing. It is nearly 8 am and I have spent the better part of the last hour with my trusty Ipad, ensconced on a wrought iron bench with a finch and a thermos for company.

Yesterday, day 8 of our journey, we traveled 300 kilometres, beginning with a quick morning blast through the Achanakmar sanctuary, followed by a set of single lane highways graced with mustard fields, a high-speed section on a newly constructed dual carriage way, and finally, a muddy track leading to our resort. We covered the distance in a good seven hours, which is fair for this part of the country, give or take a diversion or three.

Sirpur is a one-horse town. There's a tiny market, no ATM, probably a bank and basic postal facilities. Thee town is best known for its excavations of ancient temples and a township that existed here aeons ago. Most sites are open from sunrise to sunset and hence an early start is a must. By around 4.30 pm, it's dusk and by 5.30, completely dark.

We had barely an hour of sunlight in hand. The lady at the tourist office casually mentioned that we could see the entire town in 2 hours. If you are a point-and-shoot, been there, Facebooked that kind of tourist, probably so. But for someone like me who can infuriate the most patient guide with his curiosity and desire to explore every nook and cranny, a few days is more like it.

There are temples by the now almost dry section of the Mahanadi river that may not necessarily have the same level of sophistication of the temples further inland, but the location makes up for it all. Set on the river bank, these temples are the embodiment of tranquility, and that is where our 'touristy' day ended.

The rest of the evening ranged from the sublime to the mundane. The much overdue activity of washing underwear and socks in a town that has no laundry facilities, followed by a set of calisthenics to find various perches on which they could be hung to dry. We spent an hour in the very same courtyard, with a picnic mat spread on the damp grass, a glass of Mahua and Nusrat for company. What more can one ask for?

Day 7 - Achanakmar & Amarkantak - From tiger trails to temple trysts

By now, it's becoming a bit of struggle to keep this blog going. A series of late nights and early mornings on a holiday are enough to make the most resolute writer balk at the thought of hitting the word processor. Thus do I soldier on bravely, night after night.

This morning, we awoke at 4.30, performed all necessary ablutions, savoured a cup of lemongrass tea and sett off for Acahankmar sanctuary gate, 56 kilometres away. Thanks to some nefarious activities in the precincts of the forest, the gates closest to our resorts were closed. So, we sped through the misty morning, or rather bumped our way through the forest for over an hour, savouring the crisp morning air, until we arrived at the forest gate. The 56 km stretch has 5 checkpoints, which ascertain the time at which you pass and whether you have been speeding within the forest.

The next four hours were absolutely magical. Accompanied by the manager of our resort and his colleague, we trundled through thickets and streams in a trusty Gypsy, clambered up a watch tower and enjoyed the sight of a majestic Bison at close quarters. But most of all, we savoured the sights and sounds of the forest around us.

Before we left the forest, we went to say hello to 'Raju', a big bull Elephant who had been captured and kept in captivity as a punishment for his misdemeanours. As the story goes, Raju had been attacked with an axe by a tribal trying to steal his tusk. Raju escaped. The tribal and his family paid for it with their lives. In a fit of rage, the wounded elephant followed his attacker and trampled his house to the ground, along with its occupants. Every time the house was rebuilt, Raju would return to the village and trample upon it. He did this on three occasions, without harming a single other person or piece of property in the village. Now, Raju is the one being rehabilitated, and being trained to help control other 'rogue' elephants. Strange are the ways of man.


Refreshed, recharged and rejuvenated, we returned to base for a sumptuous, if rather late, lunch. Later in the evening, we set off for the holy town of Amarjantak 15 kilometres away. The evening was spent in a blur of shrines, of various ages. Some are active shrines while others are archaeological sites, which bring back the glory of a byegone era. The entire town was shrouded in a veil of tranquility, and the temple that houses the source of the Narmada, was no exception. Over the last two days, I had been hearing Indian Ocean's rendition of 'Maa Rewa', the other name from the Narmada, and about how her source lies at Amarkantak. Today, I witnessed it in person

For some strange reason, the entire temple complex has been whitewashed, erasing its original beauty and replacing it with a patina of white. All, save one shrine. Why, I will never know, and did not bother to enquire. As I walked around the complex, soaking in the tranquility, I spied a statue, reclining near the door of one of the shrines. As I moved closer to take a photo, the saffron robed statue blinked. I know now whether it was a man or a woman, but the stillness of the person shook me. I retreated, camera in hand, without taking a photo, and found a quiet spot by the temple tank, opposite the idol of Narmada Devi.

As city dwellers, even a few minutes of stillness seem like an eternity and the urge to do 'something' overtakes us. So, I fiddled around with my camera and tried my best to capture a slice of tranquility in pixel form.

I also realized that Amarkantak and its environs have much to offer and one should spend few days, rather than a few hours here. Giant Shivlings, monolithic statues and a temple that has been under construction for over 15 years - for just a day every year, based on the alignment of the stars.

The rest of the evening was spent as the tribals must have done many moons ago, and some probably still do. Angari Roti, a smoked rice pancake covered in leaves and a chutney made from tomatoes and potatoes roasted in an open fire. Cooked and devoured al fresco, with copious quantities of local brew, Mahua, and folk music playing in the background. The best part of it all was that this was a treat set up by our manager, exclusively for us. Just one of teh many perks of having the resort to ourselves.