SubscriberWrites: State of a temple – temple of the state

Faith drives pilgrims to Sabarimala, but poor infrastructure tests endurance—overcrowded buses, unsanitary facilities, and chaotic queues make the journey a trial of patience.

File image of Sabarimala temple in Kerala | PTI

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Way back in time, I used to spend numerous evenings debating religion and spirituality with my grandfather. Neither of us were experts on the subject – he was a believer, deeply religious – I was a science student, playing devil’s advocate. With neither of us being able to convince the other of their side of the argument, most discussions would end with him proclaiming: faith begins where reason ends. I was reminded of him and his line many times during my recent trek to Sabarimala Sree Dharma Sastha Temple. 

Faith can move mountains, it is said. What is unsaid is Faith cannot guarantee availability of drinking water, clean toilets, effective queue management, efficient logistics – in short basic infrastructure. There is someone who can guarantee this and who should guarantee this – the Travancore Devaswom Board, the autonomous administrative body which falls under the control of Kerala state government. The board manages around 1200 temples – Sabarimala being the most famous of these. The temple attracts hordes of pilgrims during the Mandalam season (Dec-Jan). Other than this season, the temple is only open during the first 5 days of every Malayalam month and on certain festive occasions. 

Our vehicle was stopped by police officials at Nilakkal (23km from Pamba – the base location) and we were informed that on account of inadequate parking facility at Pamba vehicles were to stop at Nilakkal and devotees were to take KSRTC buses plying from Nilakkal to Pamba. Fair point, but we did not want to park at Pamba. We tried reasoning with the policemen that our driver would drop us at Pamba and come back to Nilakkal, which fell on deaf ears. Forever cynical about the attempts of the state to profiteer, we quipped that this is nothing but an attempt by the state to collect parking charges and transportation fee from devotees. Grudgingly we trooped to the bus stop only to be greeted by the sight of two buses entering the bay and around 600 people of all age groups engulfing the buses in an attempt to get on board. The more athletic and more resourceful managed to board the buses. The scene repeated a couple of times. With no system of queues and no one to manage the crowd, this was a classic survival of the fittest scenario. The meek shall inherit the earth, it is said. What is unsaid is that the meek have to wait interminably and effect an entry into the bus only if they are positioned fortuitously where the bus driver decides to stop. Packed like sardines we embarked upon the journey in a rickety low floor bus which felt more like a no floor bus. The bus conductor was apparently a fan of the hundred rupees note and kept repeating that he had no change for the balance. An exception was made for certain argumentative devotees. Securing a standing position on the bus was a boon in itself – it took you away from the bus stand which was stinking like most of our public toilets – in this case amplified by a factor of 10.

The trek uphill from Pamba was tiring and refreshing. It is expected to be that. It tests your endurance and cardio. What it is not designed to be is a test of your ability to hold your breath periodically as you encounter the stench of urine. With poorly maintained bio urinals which in itself are few and far between, the forest doubles up as the biggest public toilet in the country. Up the hill you walk into a queue waiting to climb up the 18 holy steps to the temple. The unique thing about the queue is that multiple queues are formed basis the whims and fancies of the cops. With no communication between the cops who are posted at the entry and exit points, queues are opened randomly resulting in a frustrating scenario which can be best described as anywhere between First in First Out and Last in First Out. On a good day pilgrims spend a few hours in this queue. We spent more than 4 hours in that line. With no facilities for seating/ resting in the queue, some of the kids could be seen sitting on the rails and some of the old people sitting on the floor. Once you enter the queue there is no way you can access drinking water since you are stuck in a serpentine maze. 

It is stated that welfare of pilgrims is one of the objectives of the Devaswom Board Evidently, there is dereliction of duty at a gargantuan scale by the state and hapless pilgrims do not seem to be making any progress. Is faith blunting the anger of devotees or are they resigned to their fate?

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