Chamundeshwari Temple

Feel the stone under your bare feet. It is warm where the sun has reached it and cool where the shade falls. Around you, the air smells of camphor, jasmine and crushed marigold. A bell rings somewhere ahead, then another, and the sound rolls out over the hilltop. You are standing at the summit of Chamundi Hill, high above the city of Mysore. This is the home of Chamundeshwari, the goddess who has watched over this city for centuries.

Before we look at the building, let us meet the goddess. Chamundeshwari is a fierce form of Durga, the warrior goddess of Hindu tradition. She is the protector, the one who fights when gods and people cannot win alone. Here on this hill, she is worshipped as the deity who saved the land from a demon. And that demon gave this city its name. Keep that thought in mind, because it is the first surprise of the hill.

The story goes like this. Long ago, a buffalo-headed demon named Mahishasura ruled this region and terrorised everyone in it. The gods could not defeat him. So the goddess took the form of Chamundeshwari, climbed this hill, and fought him until he fell. According to the popular tale, the region became known as Mahishuru, the town of Mahisha. Over time, that name softened into Mysuru, and in English, Mysore. A whole city carries the name of the defeated demon.

That is why, near the car park, you meet a huge and very colourful statue. It shows Mahishasura himself, standing tall with a sword in one hand and a cobra in the other. His moustache is thick, his eyes are wide, and his paint is bright. Children love him. Many visitors photograph him before they even reach the temple. It is an unusual sight... a demon given a place of honour, at the gate of the goddess who destroyed him.

Now turn toward the temple and look up. The entrance tower is called a gopuram. It is the tall, stepped gateway found on many South Indian temples, in the style known as Dravidian. This one rises in seven tiers. Each level is crowded with carved and painted figures of gods, guardians and attendants. The tower narrows as it climbs, and small metal finials, called kalashas, sit along the very top. In the afternoon light, the whole tower glows a soft gold.

The temple itself is far older than this tower. Worship on the hill reaches back many centuries. But much of what you see today comes from the care of the Wodeyar kings, the royal family who ruled Mysore. They treated Chamundeshwari as their family goddess and their protector. In the early nineteenth century, one of the Wodeyar rulers repaired the shrine and raised this gopuram. Royal gifts over many generations added silver, gold and fine ornaments to the temple.

Walk to the main doorway and look closely at the doors. They are covered in sheets of silver, worked with images of the goddess in her many forms. Countless hands have touched them, so some surfaces are polished smooth. Inside, the sanctum is small and dim. The goddess is seated within, dressed in silk and covered with flowers and jewels. Priests move quickly, lifting lamps and offering prayers. The queue moves fast, so take in what you can in a few seconds.

Here is a second surprise. Many people never drive up this hill at all. They climb it on foot, using a long stone stairway of around one thousand steps. The stairway is often linked to a Wodeyar king of the seventeenth century. Watch the steps if you came that way. Many pilgrims stop at each step to smear turmeric and red kumkum powder on the stone. Some break coconuts. The climb is a prayer, not only a walk.

Part of the way up that stairway, a giant stone bull sits beside the path. This is Nandi, the bull who carries the god Shiva. He was carved from a single block of dark rock, and he is one of the largest Nandi figures in India. Devotees dress him with garlands and oil, so his stone shines black. If you climbed today, you met him already. If you drove, he is worth a short stop on the way back down.

Once a year, the goddess leaves her hill. During the Dasara festival, usually in September or October, Mysore holds ten days of celebration. The palace is lit with thousands of bulbs. On the final day, an image of Chamundeshwari rides through the city on a golden howdah, a seat carried on the back of a decorated elephant. Huge crowds line the streets. The whole festival honours her victory over the demon you met at the car park.

The hill also has its own quieter rhythms. Fridays are especially important days of worship here. During Ashada, a month of the traditional Hindu calendar in early summer, Fridays draw very large crowds from across the region. On ordinary mornings, though, you will see local families, students before exams, and couples with newborn babies. They come to ask for blessings. For them, this is not a tourist site. It is a familiar, living place of prayer.

Step away from the temple and find the viewpoint near the edge of the summit. From here, Mysore spreads across the flat land below. On a clear day you can pick out wide green spaces, lakes, and the long shape of the city's palace area. The air up here is a little cooler than in the streets below. Kites and other birds circle over the slopes. Keep an eye on the monkeys, too. They are bold, quick, and very interested in your snacks.

Around the temple, small stalls sell flower garlands, coconuts, bangles and framed pictures of the goddess. The sellers call out prices and wrap jasmine in banana leaf. The noise is friendly and constant. Take a moment to watch how people move here: shoes left in neat rows, hands pressed together, foreheads touched to the ground. Notice how the bells, voices and traffic horns mix into one sound. This layer of daily life matters as much as the carvings.

Before you leave, stand still once more in front of the gopuram. Look at the painted figures, at the light on the silver doors, at the smoke of camphor rising into the air. Feel the stone under your feet again. Pilgrims have stood on this hilltop for centuries, looking at the same goddess and the same city below. As you walk back toward your shoes and the road down, listen for the bells. They follow you a long way down the hill.