The Family & I had decided to take a small trip to see the Chamunda Devi Temple in the Dhauladhar range for Diwali. We took a Helicopter into the mountain’s high up at around 12000 feet. The helicopter looked a little rickety and landed with a thud and suddenly all I could see was rocky terrain and snow capped peaks. I walked up the mountain on a trail of stones. The trek was around 20 min uphill and I was excited and started taking pictures.
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We reached the top of the hill where the temple was situated. The place had only about a dozen people who were there to look after the temple. I enjoyed the climb and then participated in the prayer.”Pandit ji Anuj’s is a very good boy , three year’s back he lost his father to a tragedy which ruined his life , give him some advice as to how he can continue on his journey.” Mrs. Shivpuri sounding like the college principal that she was introduced me to the Pandit, the temple priest. The man looked at me and said ”Anarth mien hi arth dhundhna padega in hein.” Loosely translated that meant I’d need to find meaning in the destruction that took has been my life. It was deep and the way he said it and in every destruction lie’s perhaps something which is good and which I hope would soon unfold.
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I thought this was in fact so profound his word’s that they struck me and I wondered isn’t that what I was doing through my travel’s? Trying to find the meaning after the devastation in my life? Yes he was right and so where the timing’s of his words. I wandered across the mountain ranges and came across a pond in the middle of a hillock . We took some snap’s and I decided that I’d really like spend the night here and soak in the beauty of the place. The Shivpuri family left handing me lot’s of water bottles and bag’s of chip’s and chocolates to keep me company. I sat down with the pujari and his people to smoke a hookah. They had lit a bonfire in the room which had huge painting’s of Shiva and the Godess Kali on them. I loved the thick smoke and the beauty of the place was intoxicating.
After a brief chat with my host’s I wandered off again into the valley. The silence was a cliched pin drop, the air was thin and crisp, every thing looked like a picture postcard and then the the dance of light and nature began. As the evening sun approached the mountain ranges , the sky , the cloud’s started to dance in shimmering colours. I just stared clicking and tried to absorb the various shades and colours . Pink , orange, red ,brown , silver all merging with each other. For two hour’s I clicked away from every angle and managed to capture some of the beauty in front of me .
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I strolled back into my stone hut, where i warm bed of blanket’s awaited me. I smoked some more of the hookah with the priest. He told me the story of Chandh and Mundh the two demon’s who maa Kali has killed there. That was the legend behind why she was given the name of Chamunda. He gently put me to sleep by narrating these stories of mythical god’s and demon’s to me. After a meal of simple vegetables and rotis I fell into deep sleep dreaming of mountains, meanings and the goddess.
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Next morning I thanked the pujari and his men and came down from the mountain on that same rickety helicopter, all geared up to see the photo’s I had taken on. But the philosophy of “ Anarth mien hein Arth” was what stayed with me. That even something good is going to happen through total destruction.
