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Anitha K. Moosath

A peace and tranquillity of mind that only long hours of mediation will bring, a trip to Bekal guarantees in a snap. You'll leave its timeless temples and picturesque environs feeling at peace with the world.

An extensive tour of temples in Dakshin Kannada had worn us out. And when we reached Mangalore a day ahead of schedule, we had no energy left except to wind down until next day's train journey back home. But our enthusiastic driver wouldn't let us take a breather. He urged us not to miss out historic Bekal in his home district of Kasaragod. We mulled over the idea and finally let his wisdom prevail.

The Mangalore-Kasaragod stretch was not that smooth and the weather not friendly either. However, the abundant foliage of the banyan trees on the sides helped us dodge the sultry sun now and then.

Within half-an-hour, we were in the small noisy town of Kasaragod — quite nondescript, except for the towering gold jewellery shops. It was way past lunch time, but everywhere the only sign spotted was `non-vegetarian meals ready'. Finally, one did find one of the few vegetarian restaurants. The waiter's Kannada-Malayalam conversation added flavour to what was ordinary food — rice with the customary sambar, toran, aviyal, rasam and moru. After that we were headed towards Kanhangad and Bekal Fort, the largest and perhaps the best-preserved fort in the State.

Over 300 years of history lies in the imposing ramparts of this majestic fort that juts out into the Arabian sea. Near its entrance is an Anjaneya temple, as old as the fort itself, and a mosque believed to have been built at the instance of Tipu Sultan.

We were warned to be ready for a tiring stroll to get across from the entrance to the other side of the sprawling 35-acre headland. Tall bushy grasses with golden bristles all around swayed gently against the backdrop of the weather-beaten structures.

Almost towards the middle of the fort stands a 30-ft observation tower, about 80-ft in circumference at the base. We climbed on to it and a spectacular view was in store — of the shimmering horizons of the sea and the unending swathes of greenery. Sentinels must have kept vigil here day and night, gazing out through the moss-covered peepholes to spot enemies advancing from the high seas.

It grew humid as the sky turned cloudy, but we couldn't resist ambling along the campus. We saw from outside a storeroom of weapons and ammunition, which is now under the Archaeological Survey of India's protection. Two of the subterranean passages here still remain intact — one leading to the southern face of the fort and the other to the moat on the east. An eerie feeling engulfed us as we wound our way through one of them. It was a short stretch with a small arched door at the point where it opens out to offer a breathtaking view of the boundless expanse of the blue waters. We descended to the seaside pathway, laid by the Bekal Resorts Development Corporation; the magnificent walk, with the fort on one side and the sea on the other, led us down to the pristine shallow waters flanked by a long sweep of silvery beach. And for a change, there were no plastics here, but crabs aplenty.

While we were lazing around on the beach, a local filled us in on the chequered history of the fort. Bekal gained crucial importance during the reigns of the Mahodayapuram Perumals, the Kolathiris and the Ikkeri Nayaks. The port town played a seminal role in helping them establish their hold over Malabar and the Nayaks decided to fortify it; the work was initiated by Hiriya Venkatappa and completed during the period of Sivappa Nayak in the 17th century A.D. However, a few historians believe that the fort was built by the Kolathiri Rajas and later captured by Sivappa Nayak.

Later, it fell into the hands of Haider Ali and then Tipu Sultan. After Tipu Sultan died fighting the British in 1799, it came under the dominions of the British East India Company. It is now under the Archaeological Survey of India and excavations have unearthed remains of a durbar hall, a temple complex and coins and artefacts pointing to the strong presence of the Mysore Sultans. Now, resort development work is in full swing and it won't be long before people start flocking to the fort in hordes.

The sky turned an unusual crimson as the sun set and we climbed back to the fort. Standing 130 ft above sea level near the outer boundary, with rain-laden clouds hovering over, we could feel the soulful melody of Tu Hi Re, Tu Hi Re playing in our minds. The historic importance faded in the background for a moment as our thoughts slowly lapsed into the romantic song sequence in the movie Bombay. Perhaps, Mani Ratnam couldn't have found a better locale to match the fathomless passion and anguish of the lovers in the film.

While returning from the fort, we stopped at Kasaragod for tea. About 11 km north from there, we reached Kumbla, from where we took a detour along the road that leads to Badiyadka. We felt as if we were crossing an unknown land as the terrain turned rugged and rocky. Within 10-15 minutes, we were on the serene premises of the ninth-century Ananthapura temple — the only lake temple in Kerala, the moolasthanam (original abode) of Anantapadmanabha, deity of the Sri Padmanabhaswamy Temple in Thiruvananthapuram. A strange tranquillity rent the air as we got down the steps and went across the small bridge to the sanctum sanctorum, perched in the middle of a rectangular lake. Serenity hangs like a cloak here, the precincts perturbed by nothing but the voice of stillness. And a sense of permanence shrouds the temple, as if it were never built, but has always been there. The main deity here is Sri Padmanabha depicted as seated on the serpent king, Ananta. Work was on there to make idols with the traditional mix of more than 70 ingredients (kadu sarkara yogam) as was the practice in most of the ancient temples in Kerala. The priest told us that the original idols were of this kind, but were replaced with panchaloha ones as part of a renovation drive in 1972. Exquisite murals based on Dasavatara adorn the inner walls of the sanctum sanctorum; some work was done recently to restore these rare pieces of art.

We moved towards a cave in the north-east corner of the lake, which has a crack on its northern side that is believed to reach up to a seashore. There is a sacred tirtha also inside the cave.

Legend has it that Lord Krishna disguised as a boy used to help out Vilvamangalathu Swamiyar who was doing penance here. Once, when chided, the boy disappeared into the cave saying that the sage would have to come to `Ananthankadu' to see him again. Through a passage in the cave, the sage reached the seashore, went further southwards and came to the place where the Sri Padmanabhaswamy temple in Thiruvananthapuram now stands; there he was blessed with a splendid vision of Lord Vishnu. We could hear the priest calling out `Babya', which means `baby' in local parlance. We watched in surprise as a not-so-big crocodile slithered along the green waters towards the elderly man. It was indeed a rare sight — the lazy reptile opened its mouth, gulped down the ball of rice offered and waited quite tamely till the priest smeared some vibhooti (sacred ash) on a wound it had on its back. It then snorkelled its way into the dark waters below. Legend has it that the lake houses only one crocodile at a time. The oldest people living in the vicinity say Babya is the third crocodile they have found in their lifetime. They said that when one crocodile dies, another invariably appears.

When we were about to leave, the daily twilight puja was just coming to an end. There was no rush of devotees nudging each other to get closer to divinity. We had a peaceful darshan.

The soothing moon, the dimly-lit temple and the lake radiant with the reflection of traditional lamps enhanced the feeling of quietude; and we were left with a calm, which otherwise only long hours of meditation can bestow.

Picture by the author

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