Our last stops are two in one, both at the next ghat to the south, Kedar. First we climb up the red and white striped steps to the red and white striped South Indian Kedar Temple that Twain called the “Cow Temple”. Shailesh feels sure that by “cow” he means Nandi, Shiva’s bull vehicle and to which then and now the Hindus pray for relief from hunger.
It is not quite so atmospheric now as it was then. “The temple is a grim and stenchy place, for it is populous with sacred cows and with beggars. You will give something to the beggars, and reverently kiss the tails of such cows as pass along, for these cows are peculiarly holy, and this act of worship will secure you from hunger for the day.”
Inside today there are no beggars; they are outside, more than a dozen of them in various stages of desperation. You give accordingly and enter what resembles a rather shabby Turkish bath with cracked tiles for decoration but without the steam for relaxation and cleansing—and by now, several hours of the dusty, farmyard tour later, a bit of cleansing would do no harm. The priests inside are less supine than the beggars outside, crying “give rupees, give rupees” as you wander around from manger to manger. There are no cows or bulls now but there clearly have been; Shailesh reckons they overnight here. Stenchy it is too so maybe the lack of steam isn’t such a bad idea. Eventually one see the great Nandi himself, Bull One, covered in garlands. The devout do kiss his tail and none of them looks too hungry as a result. It’s time to leave; this has been the least agreeable temple, even if one of the more eccentric.
A quick trot down the ghat steps brings us close to the river where “half way down is a tank filled with sewage. Drink as much of it as you want. It is for fever.”
The tank, and it is a tank, is empty now but when the river floods it fills back up and when the water reaches the rim people do indeed bathe in it. Sita holds her nose and pulls a funny face. I know what she means: bathing in sewage to ward off fever does seem a hostage to fortune—but then at least three out of the four of us don’t have the benefit of faith and I feel our Pandit is just playing along for our benefit.
(The Indian Equator pp 78-9)