Swapna Gopinath
My mother loved pilgrimages, in fact, several women of her generation loved it. Pilgrimages were the easy travel destinations for a lot of older women. Since it was an age devoid of social media and travel blogs, tourism had not evolved into a major industry. Women organized pilgrimages which involved the extended families, and it was mostly done during school vacations. It was not a small family affair, rather it involved fathers, grandfathers, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, uncles and cousins. These pilgrimages were picnics with a large quantity of food, snacks and drinks and sometimes, larger meals. During these snack-filled trips, banana chips were only one among the favourites, there were unniyappoms, neyyappoms, chips made from yam, sweet potato and whatnot. We also carried with us bananas, banana fritters, parippu vada and loads of Kerala mixture, with spicy peanuts having a coconut flavour since they were roasted in coconut oil and masalas. Every family has a food identity, mine had one too, differentiating my childhood memories of food and travel from the countless food and travel adventures I had in my adult life. Food was, of course, only one component of the travel memories, there were several other dimensions to it, brightly coloured memories that reminded me of my self, the entity I call as my self.
Pilgrimages were mostly overnight events, sometimes of two days and two nights in duration. The event, in effect, began several days before the actual journey. A favourite destination was Guruvayur Sree Krishna Temple, which was in Northern Kerala. Since my family resided in Southern Kerala, it was quite a distance, at least seven hours of travel was required. Once the planning started, kids in the family became excited. The temple was of least concern for the children, the journey was our destination as well. While the family elders planned, discussed about the logistics, made enquiries about the hotels, we, the children in the family held our own meetings. We discussed with a passion, about the songs to sing, about the games to be played, about the room sharing agreements, about clothes to wear and so on. The list was endless and always resulted in heated arguments. We fought over the colour of the kancheevaram silk skirts, the jumkas to be worn, whether to wear jasmine flowers or not, the side seats in the bus, the debate went on for hours. While the elders came to decisions, we argued and disagreed till the day of the journey. While we climbed into the tourist van, we were excited, in anticipation and we chattered loudly.
Packing of bags was a daunting task too. Parents have a way of shattering the most well-planned ideas with a harsh ‘No’. So the clothes we planned to carry were set aside with casual comments: “You cannot wear silk skirts every day. This dress is for your Uncle’s marriage” or “the color of this top has faded. So don’t pack it”. But we still managed to sneakily pack a few things, sometimes a small piece of tamarind, or a few marbles, or a couple of gooseberries or sun-dried mango slices. They turned out to be the coveted items, while we huddled together at night and chatted endlessly till a mom or a dad interrupted us, with a “time to sleep” or “we have to get up early. Go to bed”.
Travelling with families on pilgrimage is a unique experience. It is not about cameras and capturing memories with technology. It is more about making memories unknowingly, moments that turn out to be precious with layers of nostalgia colouring them in multifarious hues, every single one of them special and unique to every child-turned-adult. I don’t remember any of the shrines I visited, I don’t remember the communion with the divinity, or if I even had a single experience of the divine kind. But I do remember the travel, mostly private buses hired for the family, with music, laughter and food.
Another interesting aspect of these pilgrimages where the fact that the shrines we visited belonged to different religions. We paid obeisance to all the gods who resided in the same route. If we went towards Thanjavoor, then the church at Velankanni was a sure spot, followed by the mosque at Nagaroor, and, of course, the temples around Thanjavoor. As kids, we looked forward to the various food possibilities, we received as prasadom, sometimes it was kheer, sometimes it was a mixture of jaggery and pepper crushed to a coarse powder, sometimes it was sandal-fragranced-water, or tender coconut water – the list was endless. The kids huddled around an elder in the family and wondered if the gods can help them with the half-yearly exams, while the parents prayed fervently. As an adult, I moved away from religion, and shrines and pilgrimages became a thing in the past, a memory cherished for the people I loved, for the places I saw running past me as the bus carried us onwards to our destination.
Pilgrimage tours were also about the shopping on the premises of the shrines. We scoured for things that were unique to the place, because when schools reopened after the holidays, we wanted to display our priced possessions and boast about them. Each place had its own unique products, and Kanyakumari was a huge favourite among us. There were cowrie shells, beach sand packed in small plastic covers, huge shells with names carved on them and many more – all reminding one of the mysteries of the sea.
Pilgrimages continued to be my vacation travel mode till I grew out of my childhood, and I refused to tag along to places I did not want to go. My mother successfully got my father to go, albeit reluctantly since he was not a god-fearing one, and stayed outside the temple premises while she prayed fervently. She narrated to her atheist daughter, the changing scenario, as the nineties altered the face of pilgrimages with temple tourism emerging as a crucial component of the commodification of culture and heritage. Smaller temples grew larger in size and stature, larger ones went online to garner more followers and wealth. My mother realised that virtual pilgrimages are as much fun, giving her a closer darsan of the deity, even during the festivals. Age has confined her too, although she does speak fondly of the pilgrimages, the journeys we cherished, along with our extended families, once upon a time!
