This morning I got a car to take me to a fort we had passed on the way into Tiruvannamalai a few days back. We rode through several villages before getting to the fort...well series of forts build and embellished one after another. The site was held by a long series of rulers: the Jains, the Pallavas, the Cholas, the Rashtrakutas, the Hoysalas, the Konars, the Vijayanagar Emperors, the Nayaks, the Marathas, the Mughals, the French, the British and, now, the people of Tamil Nadu. Over this span, consecutive rings of walls were constructed around the main Krishnagiri hill. In climbing the 1,000 or so steps to the top, I passed through six major gates and series of walls, crossed over two moats, and entered buildings that reflected several thousand years of occupation. Temples, graineries, mosques, large enclosed pools (one for elephants), palaces, and barracks all are behind thick walls curving from one hill to another.
After climbing to the highest hill, beginning to run out of water, and having my tika turn runny from sweat, I headed back to the car and to town. The tika, I think that's the term it, is the red mark put on my forehead by a sadu at the end of a short puja we performed together at a shrine on the way up the hill. After several tries, I've figured out how to get to Madurai tomorrow, taking a car and driver, and dropping off Nick, a English fellow traveler, in Trichy on the way.
Ahh but here comes Sagayanathan with some milk coffee and a few bisquits. More later.
