Bundelkhand - Chitrakoot, Hindustan ka Dil

Lured by Madhya Pradesh Tourism’s captivating advertisements and online promotion of the destination, we arrive in Chitrakoot with 2 days stay arranged. The manager at the traveler’s bungalow gently persuades us to upgrade to an A/C room costing twice as much as the "aircooled" room we have reserved and helpfully charts out how we can efficiently “cover all the points” in the time at our disposal.

If the name Chitrakoot rings a bell for many of us, it is probably because we have heard stories from the Ramayana at some point in our lives. As the story goes, after leaving Ayodhya, Ram meets the Rishi Bharadwaj near the confluence of the Ganga and the Yamuna (present day Allahabad) and asks him to suggest a place where he can spend his exile away from the gaze of people. The sage suggests the beautiful but secluded hill of Chitrakuta, home to numerous holy men. Ram, Laxman and Sita proceed to Chitrakuta reaching there on the 6th day after leaving Ayodhya; they spend more than 11 years of their 14 year exile there.

Modern day Chitrakoot situated at the border of Madhya Pradesh and Uttar Pradesh and about 120 Km. from Allahabad is popularly identified as the location of the Chitrakuta of Ramayana. The area naturally abounds in legend, with every spring, cave, hill and bathing spot connected with some incident from the Ramayana. The religious significance of Chitrakoot aside, MP tourism promises this to be an area of great natural beauty. So here we are, all expectant and ready to explore.

The evening is still young and we amble across to the nearby bridge over the Mandakini and pause to take in the surroundings. It is an unedifying sight. The river downstream of the bridge has been straight jacketed into a canal with incongruous paved ghats on either side, dirty with the grime and the droppings of stray animals. Garish structures adorn these ghats, their purpose obscure. Where the paving ends, the river banks are filthier. The river bed has itself accumulated sludge, in some places even to the extant of forming islands. We walk down, carefully placing each step, cross a drain that is emptying the sewage of the city into the river and reach the central portion of Ram ghat.

The steps are a convenient place to sit and absorb the activity at the ghat. Just by our side, a woman enters the water in her sari with a younger girl. A man, presumably her husband, is already swimming in the river. The two women dry themselves, change out of their wet saris leaving their upper garments on and wash their used saris. The older woman pleads with her husband to buy a diya that children are selling for Rs. 2 each – a blob of wax on a small paper plate with a few flower petals, protected with aluminum foil. The diya is bought, lit and floated away on the river. The family seems happy.

A young girl, perhaps 6 or 8 years old, selling Diya's now turns her attention to us and we are unable to say no.We have barely managed to float the Diya when another child selling diya’s plucks it out of the water expertly and places it among her fresh wares. It seems that our concerns that the aluminum foils would pollute the river are misplaced! An elderly woman with several young children trailing her washes her face and hands. The children follow and scoop up the water and drink it in a ritual manner while she looks on unconcerned. The ghat is now crowded with pilgrims. We slowly make our way back trailed by a man in a sadhu’s attire and a small child, both asking for alms.

Kamadgiri through the morning haze


The next morning, we decide to do the 5 km parikrama of Kamadgiri, the hill which is specifically identified with the Chitrakuta of the Ramayana. Alexander Cunnigham, the renowned archeologist describes this parikrama in his 'Report of a tour in Bundelkhand and Rewa in 1883-84' as follows:

“A paved foot-path, with a continuous belt of small temples, encircles the foot of the hill, which is crowded with pilgrims at all times of the year. The temples, however, are all modern, and there are no inscriptions. Fragments of sculpture and pieces of carved stone are found lying about the foot of the hill, but there is nothing to show that the place is an old one. Kamad is the name of the village close by the hill, and the hill itself is often called Kamad. The true name is Kamad-giri or the "hill of the giver of plenty," or the "desire-giving hill." The hill itself is still covered with jungle, but there are no Rishis, as the Brahmans of the present day all live in comfortable houses below.”

His description of over 120 years ago still holds true though we do not notice any fragments of sculptures or pieces of carved stone. Also present are hordes of hungry monkeys competing for the peanuts and prasad thrown at them by pilgrims and occasionally snatching them from the unsuspecting. Incidentally, Cunningham provides arguments in this same work for identifying Kamadgiri with the Chitrakuta of the Ramayana.

The rest of the day is spent zipping in an Auto to what are locally referred to as the char dhams – 4 spots associated with the Ramayana that form a neat packaged tour. The countryside is pretty and the drive in the open cab refreshing though it invariably ends in the chaos of parked vehicles and the dust and noise of a narrow road hemmed in by shops and eateries as the 'spot' is approached. At every spot, we (as all pilgrims) are constantly verbally accosted by men in holy garbs sitting besides their shrines for donations. Numerous child peddlers are selling their wares for Rs 2 to 5. At a spot refered to as Sati Anusuya, several kms upstream from the Ram ghat, the Mandakini  flows picture perfect, gently over rocks through still wooded forest. Colorful shops cater to the fancy of the pilgrims who are mostly simple rural folk. The highpoint of the visit to the dhams is the exploration of the Gupt Godavari. The simple women folk throughly enjoy the adventure, as can be seen from their elation as they emerge from the cave around us. They have just waded in up to 3 ft of water inside a dark and twisting cavern and followed the underground stream up towards its source for perhaps a hundred steps.

On our second evening in Chitrakoot and we decide to take a boat ride on the Mandakini. We go upstream from the Ram ghat, leaving the main part of 

the town behind. Our boatman is young - in his late teens or early twenties – muscular from holding the oars but thin. He tells us that he had to give up his studies after the 8th class to pursue this ancestral occupation. His father and elder brother rowed this same boat until they died; now it is his. He lives on the boat and sleeps on it after anchoring it midstream – the breeze, he says, blows away the mosquitoes and makes for a pleasant night. He explains that there has been a drought in the area since 2003 – that is the reason that there is so much sludge piled on the sides of the river and in its bed. It takes a good flood to clean the river and its banks – natures way. The administration, it seems, is planning steps to stop the flow of town sewage into the waters. Meanwhile, this year, they have stopped the immersion of Durga idols and this has caused a major dent in the earnings of the boatmen. The river has become narrow by now and we must turn back, just short of Janaki Kund. The boatman splashes his face with water and has a deep drink from the river. He agrees that the water is polluted but he has great faith in the waters of the Mandakini – he explains that flowing through the forests with their jadi bootiya, the waters
gather the power to counter the effects of pollution from the city.

As we return, in the fading light, the Mandakini and its banks begin to look pretty. The shops behind the ghats are lit up brightly and the light plays on the gentle waves in the river. We cross over briefly into Uttar Pradesh leaving Madhya Pradesh behind - the boundary between the two states cuts right through Chitrakoot and, we are told, is also partly the cause for its neglect.

The high point of the evening is the arati at the ghat. Crowds gather on the steps in anticipation. Exactly on schedule at 7 pm, the priest recites the prayers, the lamps are lit by ‘dignitaries’ (some district bureaucrats), people surge forward to receive blessings from the priest and in minutes, the crowd melts away.

Before we leave Chitrakoot, we are in for a little discovery. Habituated to city ways, we have not bothered to carry sufficient cash. This evening, we need to find an ATM to settle our bill as credit cards are not accepted by MP Tourism here. We are not unduly bothered as both of us have noticed large advertisements of the 24 hr ATM operated by Union Bank at its Janaki Kund branch. We reach the branch after a 2 km walk and are happy to see some signs of activity. Happiness is soon turned into disappointment. A bank employee informs us with a smile – ATM abhi to ban raha hai (the ATM is yet to be setup in town). We are also informed that the nearest ATM is in the next town – Karvi. We reach Karvi after dark. There is no electricity and the town is in darkness except for small lights in some shops. After some enquiries, we reach the SBI branch in front of the Kotwali. The guard, a pleasant smiling polite chap lets us in and gently braks the bad news. The ATM, he says is out of order – it is refusing to disburse cash. How about the ATM of any other bank or branch? This is the only ATM in the entire district of Chitrakoot, he tells us.

We are in real trouble it seems. This is when my companion – C - provides a glimmer of hope. She remembers that she hid some money in her used clothes a day earlier after there was a mention of dacoits in the area during an earlier conversation. What she can’t remember is if she has already retrieved that money and spent it. As we head back to our room in Chitrakoot, I am visualizing various scenarios and mentally preparing to face the hotel manager.

It turns out that C had really forgotten about the money she hid – so all ends well. We are back in Karvi later that night to catch our train.