"Kedarnath" a Kedarnath Travel Page by tayloretc

I don’t know why I wanted to go to Kedarnath so badly. I saw a photo once, not even a good one, and I wanted to go.

Kedarnath is Shiva’s mountain home, and his temple here is one of the holiest in India. It is a very old temple, by some accounts dating from the times of the Mahabharata, 5500 years ago – when the Pandavas appealed to Shiva to atone for their sins in battle, and to elude them Shiva became a bull and dove into the Earth, leaving his hump behind.

The existing temple is at least 1000 years old, built by the philosopher Adi Shankaracharya, and non-Hindus are allowed in. Here everyone is Hindu. Inside is dark, narrow, and wonderfully carved, and smeared floor to ceiling with 1000 years of oils, flowers, rice, and sweat. The lingam, rock in the shape of a bull’s hump, sits low on the ground and bang in the middle of the tower, constantly surrounded by hands and touched by foreheads. A simple puja crushes you to the ground and into the lingam while your hired priest chants louder and louder to drown out the other hired priests and smears brightly colored stuff on your head and in your hands for you to smear on the lingam. The smell – of incense, oils, powders, people – in the dark, damp, pulsating sanctum sanctorum is dizzying, overwhelming.

And much pushing and shoving later you are released outside. It’s hard to reconcile the inside of the temple with the outside. Even on a clear day, of which I was told there aren’t many, it’s cold and sharp and surprisingly quiet. The mountain appears to rise straight up from the end of the valley, and it’s awesome in the true sense of the word. Most of the time I was there it was grey and drizzling, so no mountain in sight, with everyone rushing back down the mountain or huddling in restaurants for tea. Those who braved the streets were buffeted by wind and rain, sweet-talked into submission by priests selling pujas, and accosted by some of the most aggressive sadhus I’ve ever met. (Not all the sadhus were obnoxious about it, but a surprising number were.)

Parts of town look almost permanent, even though the temple closes for 6 months out of the year, and Shiva and everyone else moves down the mountain. There’s very little here, though, in keeping with the purpose of the place. Some places to eat, a lot of places to buy puja items, rooms meant only to be slept in. There are a couple of treks you can do from here, and if the weather is good they must be spectacular.

The trail is well traveled and is easy for the average hiker, although it’s a relentless ascent over crumbling stone paving at a pretty high altitude. The last couple of kilometers were tough, even though the path flattens out at the top – there’s a reason oxygen canisters are for sale everywhere in Gaurikund. Pilgrims, often aged, often barefoot, and often underdressed for the cold and the rain, regularly make this journey as a sign of devotion. My Saturday afternoon descent crossed paths with hundreds of them, chanting “om namah shivay” or calling “jai bole” as they climbed. For those unable to go by foot, there are horses (mostly mules, actually, slipping in metal shoes on worn stone), baskets (carried by men), and dolis (chairs carried by four men), or you can fly in by helicopter (1 ˝ hours permitted for darshan). Walking was good.