Barefoot & Breathless

Tiruvannamalai exposes our cultural contradictions, but also our resilience: faith unfazed, devotion undimmed, a pilgrimage that outlasts neglect and outshines decay

- VISSA VENKATA SUNDAR

There are few places on Earth where you feel the gods watching you — Tiruvannamalai, the ancient temple town crowned by the fiery presence of Arunachaleswarar, is undeniably one of them. Nestled at the foot of a hill that's more than just a geological formation — it's Shiva's own abode — the town thrums with a spiritual voltage that's palpable. Pilgrims pour in not for weekend picnics or cultural selfies, but for something rarer and harder to sell — salvation. It's a heady mix of architectural brilliance, wild trekking trails, sacred forests, rare flora and fauna, and spiritual hotspots — and yet, few people have even heard of this place.

Let's start from the top — quite literally. The five-kilometre hike to the summit behind Ramana Maharshi Ashram is both breathtaking and breathtaking. The path winds through whispering forests, where butterflies flit and peacocks show off. Boulders — smoothed by a thousand years of barefoot seekers — polish not just stone but spirit, with each step grinding away the vanities and banalities of one's life. By the time you reach the summit, breathless but strangely light, the view knocks the last bit of air out of your lungs: eight towering gopurams, sacred tanks shimmering in the distance, and a chaotic yet unseemly urban sprawl below, embraced by the holy mountain.