Pollachi trip-1

She has been looking forward to it for weeks - to our Pollachi visit. My mother needed a change from her monotony in Mysore. My wife and I wanted to look up Sambu chitti-chittappa as we could not make it to her grandson Dubai Karthik's wedding in Chennai.
We decided to do Pollachi when Bhagya is with us in Mysore, on a visit from New Delhi. We finalised our travel plan the day after she arrived, on Thursday last. And mother was all packed and ready by Saturday, for our Monday start. Such was her excitment level,for our three-day trip.

Much of the road from Nanjangud to Aasanur(Tamil Nadu)is bad; has been so for years. Besides,there are no 'public conveniences' along our roads,like they have 'rest-rooms' along highways abroad. We drove into a PWD Inspection bungalow at Chikkahalli
reservoir(near Chamaraja Nagar), and talked the caretaker into allowing us to use the bathroom facility. During our last Pollachi trip,an year back, Raghu, retired
irrigation dept.engineer and my wife's brother-in-law, who was with us, had arranged for us to halt for breakfast at this place.
Having freshened up we were ready for the three-hour drive To Coimbatore, where we had lunch break at R S Puram Annapurna. Stepping out of Annapurna we headed for the Velliangiri foot-hills,40 km from Coimbatore,to visit Dhyanalinga at Isha Foundation centre.

The meditation hall, dome-like, is eminently structured for its purpose - meditation. Visitors are required to leave their cell-phone and camera outside before entering the place where pin-drop silence is maintained. Sound of even the rustling flap of a saree or trousers can disturb the quiet of this place. Volunteers,communicating in gestures, ensure zero-noise level.
Leaving Isha Yoga center, we drove up the jungle road for another km or two, to a secluded Shiva temple. Pujari there said this place was a staging-point for pilgrims who undertake an arduous trek to the hill-top shrine, across seven hills. There are well laid stone foot-steps for crossing the first four; the final three hills have no such steps and the climb is said to be rather steep. The trek across the hills takes six hours, and visits there are restricted to adult males and seniors (both male and female), and only during certain months in a year.
My late grand-father Venkataramana Iyer, they say, used to make annual pilgrimage on foot to this temple. On our way back from the temple we happened to pass through Telugu Brahmin Street, where he lived and I had spent much of my primary school days. My
grand-father, a police head-constable, was a prominent figure in the street.A severe disciplinarian at home ,as he was in uniform, I felt mildly intimidated in his presence even though he never ill-trated or used any harsh words. Grand-father even had a smile for me and granted time-off from studies on odd eveings,if he was pleased with my compliance with his discipline.
This is how our street looks today. I could hardly recognize our house; and the only landmark by which we guessed its location is the primary school in front our house.
The school is among the very few structures that retains its shape. And the building, still being used as school, qualifies to be a heritage site. The school was founded in 1874 by A S Rama Rao. As its student I used to see him taking rounds of school. He wore his
trade-mark fur cap; and diamond-studded ear-rings. With a thick and well-set mushtache Mr Rama Rao instilled fear among us. My uncle Tirumurthy Iyer served as
school-head at the Ramarao school before moving on to the Veerasami School at Raja Street as head-master.
Reached home at Pollachi, late afternoon. The house in the foreground is Sambu chitti's ;the middle one belongs to Sita chitti; and the green structure at the far end, partly visible, belongs to their elder sister and my mother.
The lane that leads to our family houses that are obscured by the houses on the street-front. The Chakrapani family had once seen better days; and I remember coming here, to
spend school vacations with my meternal grand-father Chakrapani Iyer at his British-type cottage, with vast open space in front.
The family land stretched to the end of this street. Our property included even the space on which the municipality laid this tarred road. As a mark of gratitude for the gift of land for public use they named this street after my grand-father Chakrapani Iyer.