The picture above is of a Hindu temple devoted to Lord Narasimha, one of the avatars of Lord Vishnu, about five minutes from my village, halfway up the Urlugonda gutta (hill). It dates back to the 6th to 8th century CE.
The story says that the temple was discovered by a cowherd who went looking for one of his cows. The cow had gotten lost while grazing and had wandered away from the rest of the cattle. He had gone up the hill, trying to find the lost cow, when he stumbled across a rock carving of the Lord Narasimha. The temple was originally built into caves, so the green and white part that you see above, on the outside, was built later on, after the accidental discovery.
Ever since I'd gotten to know that my father climbed to the top of the hill in his childhood days, I'd always wanted to as well. I mean, if my dad could do it, I sure as hell could too! So we had asked around the village for someone who would guide us up since it is quite easy to get lost amongst the rocky terrain. But we couldn't find anyone as all the people who had helped my dad climb the hill were now well into their sixties.
A while ago, upon my nagging, we decided to visit the village and stay there for a couple of weeks. It was summer vacation and they agreed that it would be better to spend the lockdown in view of the second wave of COVID-19 at the village, which always feels so relaxed and peaceful, rather than at the city, which felt stuffy.
The day before we had planned to come back, on a morning walk, a relative told me about a plan made by a few of my cousins (whom I had never met before), all guys, to scale the hill the next weekend. Finally, a chance to climb! We asked them to reschedule to the next morning instead, though, because we were not going to be in the village till the weekend.
We had to get an early start. Indian summers are brutal and the rocks heat up really quickly, as early as 9 a.m. So we planned to meet at the village centre at 6 o' clock and then go one to the Urlugonda hill together on their motorbikes. Anyway, since we follow IST a.k.a. Indian Stretchable Time, it was about 7 o' clock by the time we reached the hill. Thankfully, the weather seemed pleasant with a rather heavy cloud cover and a cool breeze.
And so my cousins and I began the trek up. None of knew the route for sure. We only knew the general direction which we had to take - up - and where we started and where we were supposed to end. There was also a particular boulder along the way that we knew we had to cross. It had a large black strip down it, which was the path that the rainwater took down the hill during the monsoons.
We fumbled up the hill. We retraced our steps a couple of times when we got sidetracked and stumbled and had almost-falls when our feet landed on a rock that was not firmly lodged. The climb was not exactly exhausting, but we ran out of breath often. When that happened, we sat down wherever we could to catch our breath for a few seconds. After about 45 minutes of climbing, we reached the top with no incident.
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part of the route up the hill
The wind was so much stronger on top; it blew my hair into my face and barely let my hand keep still long enough to take pictures. But, oh, the view! It was so beautiful. In every direction I looked, I saw miles of farmland stretching out. Clusters of houses forming little villages. Numerous lakes and ponds dotting the landscape. The huge reservoir that now looked small enough for me to wrap my arms around it. Everything, taken individually, from that height, seemed so tiny and inconsequential. And yet, all of it taken together formed a larger breathtaking picture. I'm afraid my photography does not really do it justice.
