the ghost city!

This is my first attempt to explain the strange communication a place brought in me. I had not felt the same before. I am speaking about  spiritually top ranked DHANUSHKODI . I had been to this land thrice and I perfectly recollect the last two.: its nothing interesting to brief a unique natural wonder as The land of losts. But it let me no other choice. Five years back I was travelling  the whole of tamil nadu skipping the metropolitan capital city. I was stunned by the richness of heritage in sculptures , mesmerised by the art and the talents showcased in the tall gopuras, confused hearing the believes and watching the practices. There were very few historic places that asked me ‘you remember the time being here?” though I don’t believe the hindu mythologies of punarjanma they made me thoughtful. May be that’s called the eternal power those landmarks have gained ovea centuaries, may be that’s nothing beyond the fascination of visiting an epitome of mysteries and histories, may be that’s a feel neither I can explain nor you can understand .While it was time to pack up I remember the inner mind reassuring a visit again. Hence the fate has played its game well enough to fulfil my reassurance ..two months back I again visited ‘dhanushkodi’ unexpected in all respects. Quite simple was the story line though it was hard for the emotional beings like me. Being in a hindu family to visit this end of INDIA , at its worst a death itself is a cause. The belief  of disposing the last solid evidence of  a life : the  ashes.. into the sacred sea of rameswaram  perhaps that alone make the  living souls self contented. Not sure about debating the idea, that is some way considered to be the last karma that is left to make the lost happy. i did walk parallel to my uncle over a distance across the silent bay of Bengal watching him do the left ritual perfectly. Perhaps what ruled  my thoughts were even hurting than the scene. I was finding better reasons to prevent crying, to stop thinking. But then the sea itself is silent, the silence it earned and showcase to dissolve the pain of losses. I could feel the sympathy it shared with people like me. The shades of blue under the burning sun had the experience of ages .. receiving the last grievances ..unlocking the tag of commitments with the living world  . Then it was me there watching, tomorrow it may be the others to make me happy. Hence the phenomenon  continues…


 It was not the necessity  of the situation , still with no thought I found myself walking through the hot sand to reach the temple (well I found none to share ). In the midst of unfamiliar crowd ,who spoke diverse languages there I was to finally dissolve into the seas my pain. I felt the wetness not from the theerthas but from my tears, praying for a lost soul was all I had to do. Somewhere in the long run I grasped an idea, silence is the best solution to regain the state. The task of reassuring the lost hence came to its end , in the world of silence I still refreshed the memories desperately searching  a room to  lock the  pain. But this place just taught me more evident base.


While standing above the seas  appreciating the deep blue shades of water and the rail that crossed the seas, there were thoughts about the indefinite distance, the dreams of sailing towards the horizon, to be as far as possible. At those stares I remember the  narrow merging of land to the seas..!! the controversial Ram sethu .. I wanted to reach there and check if my view spots Sri Lanka. Perhaps till I moved into the boat-engine-van (I  don’t know if they have any specific name ) to set foot in the ghost land I was struggling with my own thoughts. The travel through the sea.. passing the thorn trees.. confused with its ruins and the dilapidated remains... how can one call it to be a sea.. still its ..the calmness .. the silence.. the loneliness.. its strange in all respect! Dissolved in the strange feeling I was more curious in capturing every single scene . differentiating neither the sea nor the shore through the damp land we kept moving.


REACHING: you cant use your own means instead have to rely on those specially designed vehicles or the tempo of local fisherman. Anyone like me and you will be astonished by the ways things work out but believe me it’s all chained by trust. The trust we keep on the anonymous driver is all that  make you reach there.

Though   all along the trip we feel the van is going to topple, the beauty of water and sand dunes partially projecting the evidences of a lost rich cultured township will never let you bother anything else  .  Anyways the vehicle design is not sophisticated and smart to spare from breakdowns or other wear and tear..  if so stay where you are waiting for the next crew to come. In the midst of excitement do realise you are in that end of world with no source of communication.. still  an assurance while grasping the strangeness you will never infer all these scary  topics …

Most of the local people use this as the means of transportation!

I cud hardly imagine a life there.. an ordinary traveller with whatsoever be the emotional heaviness is allowed to this place till dusk. I was clueless about surviving until I found a girl ..in a place that is officially tagged as ghost city she walks fetching water for life. .reminding me about a portrait..

We  got down…  the sand dunes covered with the parasitic  bushes..  and where I stood contained the old railway station.. Though I had enough knowledge about the cyclone of 1964 I never expected it to drastically remind us the extend of disaster but it did, even after decades it did.. a story long said is yet to reach its completion.. the land still breathe in through the remains.. a township that once stole the heart of countless tourists still weep over the marooned dreamz... the thought of rebuilding , rehabilitating is long dissolved in the salt water..  no visible signs to rehash.. to count I didn’t find that many people.. still around 500 people still define their life in this lonely sea..  either to uphold the richness this land once had or to remind the December that never can fade off..

The skeleton of a church that still hold on its pride , not giving a chance to collapse invited me in.. the architectural accomplishments were done with corals.. the altar had scribed names of visitors , touching the odds i felt remembering the prayers that once brightened the church atmosphere, recollecting the joy the people of an unknown age once shared.. with heartfelt sadness I realise they lost it all . walking through the hot sand I found a crafts shop with a solar panel .. (the minimum trace of real world customisation).. selling all creative pieces out of every sea products.. my attempts to know the about the main land connections taught me the 500 inhibitors here were too much adapted to this place no matter the communication nor the developments... May be because they had it all once and just don’t bother losing it again.

finally I was there… unaware of the fact ‘Ceylon is matter of 90km travel’…  the shore that defined loneliness.. how can a sea shore be so  lonely? Yet  making me stand speechless there was the silent bay of Bengal... inviting me to walk into the blue sea trying to cut the tag of misteries.. adding on to my astonishment, I turned back tracking the roaring of Indian Ocean.. hence realising my position between  the seas ..away from the world of routine business..  the contrast that prevailed may provoke a wanderlust to explore ….nvea be shocked if you follow the heart and find yourself moving forward..  noise vs silence!! 

And for those who truly remember the story of the 100 train travellers of 1964.. you conclude a hearty consolation facing the silence.. it kept reminding me  those travellers who never reached the destination dissolved their souls into this seas.. balancing the sorrow of an unheard train tragedy with waves that seeking attention…  born to the spiritual land that not just redounded to be a tourist hub, thrashed their dreams with no procedural cremation.. with no black box stories to back up an unforgettable night hence got  delineated in the history!

In any efforts to fulfil the dream of Jaunting around the world, nvea miss a chance to feel the heaviness of this seas.. because it has the power to substitute any staunch emotion of ours with decades old loss..  sympathy is not what we feel nor its unique beauty seek for.. instead  a candour mind to share the silence.. while ending this post , it seems I have travelled a long way from my own emotions ..that is the place all about..it speaks a story that could burn your sorrows.. set your thoughts wander beyond the limits.. the contrast.. the parallel existence of beauty and ages old mystery.. the me who badly wanted to end the emotional thoughts travelled a long distance to feel this haunted story..  finally realising the distance travelled..

Perhaps this strangeness is obvious, positioning myself at the start of Ramsethu .. if this again is fate.. I don’t think its wise to start the controversial religious arguments here.. but for someone like me I hardly could avoid my senses not to believe the story..  I leave that part to your own belief and knowledge!!  may be the extend of destruction caused is what that forced the world define the place “the ghost city” but at the end I find the land unobtrusive.. if not the people the variety of sea birds that migrate there for a season  would support me ..!!

NOTE: I didn’t mean it to be an entertaining journey..so I was not prepared ..the pics here are all captured using a Galaxy S2..and with no thought of using them here… this is my first experiment , explaining about a trip..sorry if its not worth reading :P!to my dearest frnd..u missed such a chance hope this helped u realising the same..:P this is one such part of the world that would stimulate rivulets of thoghts…