Gavi Gangadhareshwar Temple

Sunday 25, 2010.
It was Sunday afternoon, and we were all napped and refreshed, ready to check out the latest temple on my to-do list. A peep out of the window ought to have warned us that the weather was really not ideal for a trip half way across the city into totally unknown territory with a one year old possessing an unpredictable appetite. But I didn’t peep, and by the time I did, I had expended serious amounts of energy chasing a little nanga-bunga (not sure what language that is, but it kind of means naked) baby trying to squeeze him into a diaper.

After all that work, I wasn’t just going to give up now, was I?

Besides my husband was actually ready on time! No one wastes that kind of effort on a strong wind threatening to knock us over and a heavy rain that might leave us soaking and stranded in the middle of nowhere (which is where I thought Gavipuram was actually, until we reached the place and thought to ourselves – OH! That wasn’t so bad!).

Although you might be outraged by my utter lack of Bangalore general knowledge, I just want to say – I am learning. I first heard of Gavipuram in the newspaper where an article said there was some discussion on developing Gavi Gangadhareshwar temple as a heritage tourist spot. I then learnt, over the rest of the week, that not so many people had heard of the place either. So I wasn’t the only geographically challenged person around.

Here is what I learnt – Gavipuram is in the same exact vicinity of Basavanagudi. So it really isn’t in some far flung corner of Bangalore. In fact it is just 3 km from City Market. This makes it a rather unlikely place for one to find a cave temple, don’t you think? But there it is nonetheless.

We drove through tempestuous winds, my head constantly twisting unnaturally as I leaned forward to check if large branches were threatening to break and fall on our little Santro, crushing us all. After a while, the winds calmed and I returned to pay more attention to my official role as Navigator – which is when I realized (or rather Google Maps told me) that we were off course. A few friendly auto drivers later we were buzzing along, spinning a couple of times around a round-about opposite the Ramakrishna Math wondering which turn we were supposed to be taking and finally Google Maps told us that we were on the right track.

(On a tangent here: I love Basavanagudi. It is a wonderful, wonderful area. So many trees, but more importantly so many BEAUTIFUL parks.)

We knew we had entered Gavipuram when we came across a beautiful park on a hill. We pulled over and asked directions from two teenagers, who appeared to be struggling very hard to sprout some moustaches as they ambled lazily along chatting away. I got to practice my Kannada (which I learnt that morning from my spoken Kannada class). “Gavi Gangadhareshwar temple eli ide?” which roughly translates to “Where is Gavi Gangadhareshwar temple?” Ok.. so I only got to use two words but that’s better than no words!

They replied politely in excellent English because obviously they realized that I was no native Kannada speaker. How I messed up those two words, I know not. I think it was all the pressure to perform or just the anxiety in my voice.
The park and temple are both on opposite sides of the same hill. The temple is on the rockier side, but you get a clear view of the temple from the park as they both share a boundary wall.

A great thing about the temple was that it has wonderful parking. Outside the gate is a rather large parking area. We were one of four cars there.
At the entrance there is a large green board greeting the temple goers with a short history of the temple. The gist is that this temple was first built in the 9th century and is said to have been where both sages Gouthama and Bharadwaja performed penance and worshipped the resident Shiva-linga. Later, in the mid-1500s Kempegowda rediscovered the temple and renovated it – adding 4 large monolithic granite pillars which support enormous discs representing the sun and the moon as well as a dhamaru and trishula (both articles which are connected to Shiva).

As there were large signs asking us not to take pictures, I could not get any of these really impressive pillars standing somewhat awkwardly in the corners of a rectangular courtyard. Here, families of weekend pilgrims like us sat together, sharing a joke, staring at the walkers in the park and just talking to each other.

From the outside, the temple did not look like a cave – just a rather short temple at the bottom of a gradual slope, lacking the usual ornate gopuram I have seen in most temples. But as soon as we came through the entrance and passed by truly ancient and weatherworn pillars to the main temple, the ceiling (suspiciously painted over with some grey stuff, which I assume is to prevent erosion) suddenly got very low and gets lower still as you proceed.

The main cave is a rather hot and stuffy place, despite it being quite large and without too many pilgrims. When we entered, the aarti was in the progress. A young priest was singing a melodious prayer in the sanctum sanctorium as he decorated the large granite lingam with the most recent flower offerings and waved the aarti. Prashant and I had bought a ticket for a prayer for Pranav and we tried to hand it to the priest. In the mean time, I looked further into the inner sanctum fascinated by the Shiva Linga.

The large granite Linga was decorated quite simply with pink, white, green and red garlands and a yellow and red dot in the center, but what really caught my eye was this large mirror-patchwork disc on the back wall of the inner sanctum, a little above the linga. The plate was made of concentric circles of rectangular mirrors arranged to catch the reflection of the diya making it look like a glowing sun shining upon the linga.

Interestingly, on Makara Sankranti (winter solstice) evening, the setting sun pays its annual obeisance to Lord Shiva – the sun’s rays pass between the horns of Nandi who is stationed outside the inner sanctum and shines upon the Linga. This event, as well as Shivarathri brings a big crowd to the temple.

After a short and hurried prayer was made for Pranav’s benefit, I began to stray – looking at all the different shiny black, exquisite sculptures that lined the cave walls around the inner sanctum and further across the rest of the cave. It is indeed a large cave, with surprising little nooks and crannies full of treasures and place for people to meditate in peace.

I was most interested in the idol of Agni, which I had read about as being the only one in South India. I looked for it in every conceivable corner and then was directed to an unlikely little tunnel at the left-most corner of the temple (past the Parvathy idol). Having to fold into half, I walked in an organutan-esque fashion through a narrow passage to find myself alone with a long line of small idols, each lovingly decorated and clearly well visited. This is where, among other idols of the various incarnations of Shiva, Devi and Vishnu, was an unassuming statue of the two headed, three-legged Agni. As I examined it, a small line formed behind me and I was forced to move forward. The little tunnel led back to the inner sanctum of the main Shiva-linga and I surprised both Prashant and Pranav by suddenly emerging from the other end of the cave.

Once outside again, I followed a large family as they walked to the back of the temple, where I found two modern additions to the temple.
If you walk behind the temple you will see the first and only flaw brought by modernity to the temple – someone had the great idea to paint to roof of the cave temple in a bright brick red and outline little rectangular tiles on it which seems to shock you into the 21st century. In addition they have added two, modest and simple looking cream coloured vimanas to mark the location of the Shiva Linga and Parvathi sanctums. It looked so... mismatched and confused. I wonder why they felt the need to paint over the existing rock? It would have been quite beautiful as it is. I liked the vimanas, however.

Finally finished, as we drove down the hill back towards home I realized that Gavipuram and Basavanagudi must have been such beautiful places – indeed still they make one remember why Bangalore was once the Garden City.

Gavi Gangadhareshwar park or Thimmesh Prabhu Park is a must see as well – although our visit was cut short by the clouds constant threat to shower on us, and Pranav’s fast approaching bed time. We did see the Mallikarjuna temple up on the hill, in the middle of the park, as well as a stone parasol located in the corner of the park, to the left of the temple. Apparently it is very old – but I wonder – what is its purpose, what is its story? Will do some reading.

Overall it was a trip well worth our while, and will be well worth anyone’s while.
But be sure to club it with other visits in and around Basavanagudi instead of being utter dopes like us, who just keep having to drive up there every weekend as we learn about newer and newer parts of this incredible locality.

Bugle Park and the other temples

Having finished with the main attraction, we walked quickly across to behind the Doddaganapathy Temple where there is a small cluster of temples dedicated to Valmiki, Hanuman and Kalahastishwara (form of Shiva).

The Valmiki Ashram is a small two storeyed building, whose function is still quite a mystery to me. Outside is quite a nice statue of the sage Valmiki meditating. The inside however, is a small hall with a black board with a list of donors and the amount they donated as well as a small altar with a framed print of Sage Valmiki. A stack of plastic chairs lay on the side by narrow stairs going upward.

Next we peeped into a tiny little Anjaneya temple. This tiny little temple has a fierce priest who really scared me by pouncing on me for almost taking a picture of the temple shrine. It was beautifully decorated, and entirely covered with garlands of beetel leaves and flowers, exposing only the small benign, orange coloured face of Lord Hanuman. I can only assume that it is another monolith carved out of the local rock but much smaller than the other more famous temples in the same complex of Ganesha and Nandi. The priest was terribly angry with me and so I really couldn't ask him anything. But why he was upset with me I simply cannot understand? I meant no disrespect.

Opposite the Anjaneya temple is a shrine dedicated to Shiva. Here the priest was friendlier, but my poor Kannada skills and his own shyness prevented me from getting any story out of him regarding this somewhat interesting shrine. At the altar are three simple carvings on granite of an Elephant (Hasti), a Linga, and a Hunter (Kala).

The patient priest explained that it was a replicate of the famous Sri Kalahasti temple near Tirupathi, but gave me no more information on it. I repeatedly asked him for a story that explained a somewhat interesting scene that appeared to be portrayed on the rocks, but he didn't seem to understand me. He kept pointing to each image and would repeat slowly (convinced that I was a little bit of a tubelight)- "Kala is hunter, Hasti is elephant, Eeshwara is Linga". I gave up and was sure that Google would help me, but it has confused me further because it says that Kala is a snake. I didn't see a snake in the temple - I saw a hunter. And the priest repeated it to us so many times, I am sure I couldn't possibly have got it wrong.

Anyway, the Anjaneya temple priest really put the fear of God (haha, isn't that funny!) into me and so I didn't dare ask about taking a picture of the temple.

We came out and sat down by a Mommy cow and her little doe-eyed calf who were tied outside the temple. I pulled out my notebook and wrote down what I saw in ugly little short hand (which I couldn't understand later anyway) while Prashant tried to get Pranav interested in his first cow-experience. Of course, Pranav doesn't care for any animal unless you tell him its a dog. If you call it a dog, then Pranav perks up and comes eagerly cooing like he has suddenly come upon an old long lost and beloved pet. "Dawwwgggggiiiieeee" he called shrilly,tottering towards it, narrowing his eyes till they were almost invisible. Prashant tried in vain to try to explain how this was a doggy that mooed. Then we walked down into Bugle park where we came upon a small little surprise shrine to Renuka or Yellamma just at the entrance (I think the park has multiple entrances - we entered from the Bull Temple side).

Who is Renuka, you might wonder, if you know as little about the Hindu pantheon as myself. Well, ask wikipedia when in doubt. Here's the answer

Bugle Park was really beautiful from the first - oh! 20 feet that we saw. On entering the park we made the big mistake of putting Pranav down to let him walk. He was so well behaved all this time, we really felt he needed a reward. But this sudden freedom was too much for him. He went out of control, and it would have been alright if there weren't so many red ants everywhere. And even the red ants would have been alright if Pranav was not feeling so inquisitive - because after a short mad dash forward, and a quick run around in a circle, Pranav promptly bent down and started to chase the huge red monsters intending to perhaps befriend it and take it home. So he was scooped up, and we dodged the flailing arms, ignored the loud crying and shrieks of protests, avoided eye contact with all peaceful Basvanagudi residents and park-regulars whose walk was being interrupted by this little tantrum and quickly walked out in search of Bugle Park Kamat for some grub.

We didn't really look very hard for the famous Kamat hotel, because right opposite the park was Halli Thindi - a tiny little fast food joint serving authentic Kannada food. It was really yummy food by the way. We tried the bread dosa, ragi dosa, some pathroda, some funny sounding payasam and akki roti and all this other stuff which I can't even remember cause it was so chaotic over there. Anyway, it was really good. ESPECIALLY the bread dosa. Try it.

Here is how you get there from MG Road
Parking is on the street around the temple and park, although I can foresee major problems on festival days.

Bull Temple, Basavanagudi

Tuesday, 04 April 2010

Bull Temple, Basavanagudi
Bull Temple is a short and easy hike up the hill from Dodda Ganapathy Temple. It is made easier still as the path is well paved with sturdy looking hand rails. I did regret not bringing my footware, however, as the pavement was rather prickly and wet in patches.

We were greeted at the top of the hill by a sleepy dog that looked up at us dreamily and then dropped heavily onto the rocky ground and went to sleep. Itwas not a busy day for the temple, which is surprising, because almost any tourist literature for Bangalore will list Bull Temple as a must-see sightseeing spot. And really, it is fairly impressive although the exteriors of the temple itself give no hint to what lies within.

Bull Temple, as one can easily guess from its name, is a Temple in honour of Nandi, Lord Shiva’s vahana as well as principal gana. It was built by Kempegowda, a chieftain, in the 16th century during the time of the Vijayanagara Empire. He also happened to establish the city of Benda-kaal-ooru (city of boiled beans!) or Bengaluru/Bangalore.

Although the above seems to more likely history of the temple, I came across a more interesting story as to the origin of this Nandi on the internet. Apparently, this area was once covered with groundnut fields and one day a bull happened to amble into one such field and decided to stop for a quick bite before moving on. The farmer of this field, upon coming across this trespassing bull, was naturally outraged. He struck the bull, and instead of running away the bull simple sat down and turned into stone. The remorseful farmer built a temple around the bull but found that the bull just kept growing and finally in fear that it would break through the temple structure, he called upon Lord Shiva to intervene. Shiva answered his prayers and struck the stone bull on its forehead with his trident and arrested its growth. This giant bull is now the Nandi that we
had come to visit.
We walked through a rather modern and simple looking temple entrance, which I later found out was built three hundred years later, in the early 20th century. Each of the saivite figures on the various levels of the vimana seem quite untarnished and all facial features are fairly distinct and well preserved. I have to admit, I didn’t quite like it that way. Although it is meant to be copying the Vijayanagara style of architecture, it looks so apparently modern that it ends up just looking like a copy. I didn’t need to be told that it was not built in the late 16th century, it was fairly obvious . But I forgot about this ‘flaw’ (I may even call it that) because as soon as I set eyes on Nandi, I had no space for any other thought in my little brain.

Nandi was glorious. Simple adorned on this uneventful Sunday afternoon, He looked so majestic and so enormous in the small and cramped shrine. The relatively tiny shrine makes His size all the more awe-inspiring and I found it difficult to take my eyes off Him. Behind Nandi, near His tail there was a little (well, relative to Dodda Ganapathy and Nandi, it felt little) gold coloured idol of Ganesha. Opposite it, in a small, neat little alcove shrine is a granite shiva-linga.

It surprised me that Shiva, here, is found behind Nandi. All temples I have been to in the past have an idol of Nandi facing the Shiva-Linga. I wondered if there might be a reason/story/explanation for why Shiva is behind Nandi here, but the priest at the Shiva shrine seemed only interested in giving me monosyllabic responses. Anyway, I didn’t feel like ruining this beautifully peaceful moment with conversation, especially conversation that might end with me feeling utterly frustrated.

I exited the temple somewhat sadly.

When I was a teenager, I heard many people talking about “vibrations” – about how they felt these really positive vibrations in temples, nature, or in the presence of certain people. I was mostly very sceptical. But one day, in my late teens, I went to an old church near my university. It was empty and somewhat dark and all I could see were a row of candles flickering the front, and the shadowy figure of Jesus Christ on the Cross. As I sat in the back row, I felt my eyes close and my hands fold involuntarily. I grew aware of this somewhat warm feeling in my chest; a comfortable feeling; that feeling you get when you are hugged or spoken to kindly after a particularly difficult day; a feeling of being loved and loving; a feeling of peace. Then the moment passed and my eyes opened, but the feeling of well-being remained. And when it came time to leave, I felt sad. I felt sad to leave this place because I knew that eventually the feeling would leave me as I dove deep into the world outside. And on this day, I felt sad again, as we walked out of the temple, past the knick-knack vendors and down the slope to the next temples.

P.S. In case you were wondering about what makes this temple so special – apart from its age, Nandi is carved out of a single piece of rock and is approx. 15ft tall and 20ft long making it the fourth largest Nandi in the country.

Here is how you get there from MG Road
Parking is on the street around the temple and park, although I can foresee major problems on festival days. Vehicles are allowed up the hill till the temple and there is a little space for a few cars and bikes to park on days when there isn't a crowd.

Auspicious Beginnings

Sunday, 04 April 2010

Dodda Ganapathy Temple, Basavangudi


Our first ‘expedition’ (and it certainly feels like an expedition when you have to pack for every possible contingency when going anywhere with a one year old) began with far less enthusiasm than I had hoped.

An ex-colleague of mine suggested that I start the blog after aptly paying my respects to the Lord of Obstacles, Ganapathy. Why not start at Dodda (Big) Ganapathy?

It was a hot and rather lazy day and after a particularly scrumptious tea with moist pastries from Sweet Chariot and a couple of blazing hot Meddur Vadas with my parents and brother, Prashant (P) and I mustered up our somewhat weak will power and packed ourselves into our tinny and tiny little Santro. The roads were surprisingly empty – it seemed like the rest of Bangalore had the sense to stay in and laze around under the fan on a nice summery Sunday like this.

This made the normally discouragingly long drive from Indiranagar to Basavangudi surprisingly easy and fast. Pranav settled cosily into my lap, clapping and shaking his head to the music on the radio and pointing at autorickshaws, scooters, and small cars alike, pursing his lips and softly whispering “owwwtho” with great affection for the vehicle.

As we drove past Town Hall, we left the more familiar and cosmopolitan Bangalore behind and entered Bengaluru, which has a decidedly more South Indian feel to it. The roads are narrower lined with old and somewhat poorly maintained shops, shaded by enormous trees. Here a larger percentage of women walk in sarees and fewer percentage of men are found in jeans. It almost has a small town feel to it.

After a wrong turn and asking policemen, watermelon vendors and a jaywalker for directions, we finally reach the base of a small little hill which is home to a colony of some of Bangalore’s oldest Temples.

We arrived exactly at 5:30pm – when Dodda Ganapathy temple just opened its doors. After depositing our shoes, we hurried along to be part of the first aarti. Despite a board that asks men to stand to the left of the divider and women to the right, the rule is blatantly flouted and the priest takes no notice. Already a small and rather pushy crowd had gathered.

I love to watch the people who come to temples because they are nearly as interesting as the temple itself (and sometimes more interesting even!). There are always a certain type of people you find in nearly every temple – the regular visitors, the VIPs, the weekend pilgrim with enormous families, and the sincere devotees.


The regulars - the people who confidently cut in line and stand right in front of the altar, making un-selfconscious gestures of piety which occasionally involves paying large obeisance inconveniencing most people around them. Also there are those regular visitors, more timid in nature, who prefer to stand in an odd corner, praying silently and for whom the priest tends to wait for very patiently before retiring with the aarti platter.

The weekend pilgrim – the large families where the adults plan that perhaps today is a good day to go out and see a temple. Their children, nieces, nephews, grand children are all dressed in their Sunday best, hair oiled, combed, plaited and black kajal marks appropriately placed before piling into autos, cars or taxis. Upon arrival, there is usually a great deal of chaos. The loudest and most enterprising adult shepherds the troop into the temple and the party invariably stands together organized by age and gender – the older males in the front, followed by younger males, then older females and finally younger females with unruly offspring. As the aarti comes around, the wives seek out their husbands for change – everyone digs their various pockets and purses, even the children who thus far were staring up strangers’ nostrils, trying to get other babies’ attentions, or knocking and slapping each other come to offer help, tugging at their mothers’ purses and offering their services to explore the mysterious contents of her bag. The priest waits patiently with the completely blank expression of one who has temporarily surrendered all his emotions at the feet of the lord. Suddenly the coins come –a-pouring. Big hairy hands, wrinkly hands, smooth well manicured hands, tiny grubby hands all descend upon the tiny little flame at once.

Prashant and Pranav, my fellow weekend pilgrims

Finally, the sincere devotee - One for whom the temple is really meant. He or she does not notice any of what I notice. They don’t even really notice the idol or the temple. They are unobtrusive and almost invisible. Having completed their prayer, they take the aarti, Prasad and leave in silence.

At Dodda Ganapathy temple, they were all present and they all distracted me from the deity of whom I could barely get a glimpse as they all jostled ahead of me. At my side, Pranav was folding his hands and Om-ing, looking at the other grown-ups hoping for a “Good Boy!” which he normally receives in reward for good piety.

Finally as the crowd dispersed, in the little room I could see the enormous black rock, covered with wonderful garlands of yellow shevanti, orange kanakambara, fragrant white tuber-rose and jasmine, red roses, bunches of durvasa grass, and really vibrant purple flowers. Peering through all this decoration, I detected large silver eyes and with some difficulty, I was finally able to discern the trunk and tusks.


The deity itself is carved out of a single large grey rock and is 18ft in height and 16 ft in width. With all the decoration, it is difficult to make out what the Ganapathi really looks like. I have read that as part of the decoration, the idol is covered with a 100kg layer of butter. In this heat, it is possible that all the butter had melted and hence I could not really make it out. Perhaps it is a style of decoration reserved for the winters? In any case, I could not find anyone who could give me more information about it.

After the aarti we proceeded to do a pradakshina of the inner sanctum. The walls are lined with large prints of the different forms of Ganesha, Hanuman, Karthikeya, Parvathi, etc. Prashant and I couldn’t help finding it funny that these picture frames were used as a kind of advertising, where the donor of the picture pastes his business card in a prominent place within the frame. How effective is it, as a form of advertising? Alternatively, Prashant had the idea that it might be a card left for the Lord so He knows who donated it, when He plans to dispense grace. Both options were rather funny.

After that we proceeded up the hill to the famous Bull Temple, leaving our precious footware in the care of a rather harassed looking chappal-official. By the way, he charged us Rs 2. So carry change.

Here is how you get there from MG Road
Parking is on the street around the temple and park, although I can foresee major problems on festival days.