On our way back from Mudumalai we decided to drive out to a temple ruin that was open until 8 PM (since it was getting late) and was just 25 kilometers off the road. In the U.S. 25 kilometers is no big deal, but we weren't factoring in India and it's lack of infrastructure. We drove and drove and drove on a small two-lane road, dodging ox carts, people walking and on bicycles, cows, people baling hay on the only large, flat surface in the area (the road). Every so often Ramesh, our driver, would pull over and call out to people on the side of the road to make sure we were going the right way.
Finally, we reached a small dark town and found the temple on a small back road. It was closed, even though it was only 7:15. However, a teenage boy came by and it turned out he had the key and he let us in. Then the man who took care of the temple came over and showed us around. We took pictures and then started back to the main road, where we drove through more hay and almost got stuck behind a sugar cane truck with two flat tires. Ramesh drove the Ambassador over some trees and got us by the truck.
As we drove through one town, we heard music being piped through speakers and off to the side of the road behind some buildings we saw a large temple with lights hanging from it. Ramesh slammed on the brakes and backed up so we could see it. He asked if we wanted to go over and we said yes.
So we drove up to the temple and immediately caused a hubbub throughout the group of villagers outside the temple. We walked over the the door and took our shoes off to go inside. As soon as we got inside, the men in charge of he ceremonies that were going on came over to us and invited us to come look at the shrines. It turned out that the temple had just been renovated and that's why it was decorated with lights and why they were playing music. It was the first of several inaugural celebrations.
We participated in the pujas (prayers) at each shrine, and received flowers around our necks and red dots on our foreheads. Brandon and Jason were each given ceremonial scarves as well. As we walked around the temple to each altar, more and more people (especially little kids) followed us from point to point.
Then the mayor showed up and welcomed us and had us pose for pictures. He called his son and who knows who else on his cell phone (because everyone has a cell phone, even in the most remote villages). Apparently, he was spreading the word that there were foreigners in the temple. More and more people came into the temple and we took lots of pictures of the villagers and especially the little kids who were so excited.
We walked out of the temple and the villagers cleared a path for us. We worked our way back to the car, all the while shaking hands and answering the little kids' questions: What's your name? What country are you from?
The mayor's son, who spoke English, showed up and the mayor introduced him to us. We were invited to the dedicatory celebration the next day, but unfortunately we had to tell them we couldn't make it.* Eventually we made our way back into the car and were able to drive us, everyone waving good-bye and calling out to us.
The amazing thing was, the people in the village were genuinely thrilled to have us there. They welcomed us and treated us like royalty, allowing us to participate in their rituals and honoring us with flowers and symbolic scarves. They were happy and generous and kind. It was pretty amazing. As Brandon commented, "How different is that from the reception that four Indians would get if they just showed up in a small town in America?" Something to mull over.
The next morning, I woke up and turned to Jason and asked, "Did that whole thing with the temple and all the people and everything really happen?"
* We were still a couple of hours from Bangalore and honestly, I don't think ANY of us knew where we were exactly.
