Recently, my better half and I went on a weekend trip to Pondicherry. Pondicherry is a place with a strange mix of cultural influences. On one hand you have the French heritage mingled with the very Tamil nuances, resulting in street names like "Rue Nidarajappayer" and names like "Grinde Sridharan." On the other hand is the all-pervasive Aurobindo Ashram influence and the foreign tourist-devotee crowd.
We decided to visit the MatriMandir at Auroville. Auroville is an international community that, among other things, engages in different streams of production. Aromatic candles with pressed flowers, handmade paper, crochet garments and organic foods are all products that come out of Auroville. At the heart of Auroville is the MatriMandir or "The Temple of the Mother." The Mandir is a kind of meditation centre that houses one of the biggest crystals in the world. That was our destination that evening.
Auroville is about 17 kms from Pondicherry and we had a nice drive through the many tree-lined avenues. For a place of such tourist importance, signs to Auroville are few and far between. So long as we kept seeing hep eateries (Auriginal Pizzas, anyone?) and foreigners (on all manner of two-wheelers), we knew we were on the right track.
Our first stop was the Information Centre, where we had to collect passes to the MatriMandir (its about a km from there). The centre has a pricey Auroville handicraft shop, a nice canteen and a small exhibition centre. The MatriMandir passes are free but have to be collected before 4 p.m. The Mandir itself is open only between 4 and 5. So a visit here means jostling with crowds of tourist groups who arrive by the busloads. After issuing our passes, the assistants kindly but firmly asked us to look around the exhibition and see a video before proceeding. The exhibition described the "MatriMandir" as the "soul of Auroville" and "man's expression of aspiration to perfection." It had many nice visuals, lots of quotes from Aurobindo and the "Mother," and pictures of Auroville's activities. We had a glass of interesting Hibiscus juice at the canteen there. Very nice and refreshing. "Pure and good for health," said the foreigner (French?) who manned the canteen.
Soon it was time to drive on to MatriMandir. The drive had been lovely and we were looking forward to seeing the place.
When we dismounted at the Mandir entrance, we found huge queues formed in what looked like the middle of nowhere. Mandir volunteers guided us to form even more queues or join existing ones. No bags, cameras, mobile phones or pagers were permitted because of the need for silence in the Mandir. We waited for a while in the heat. Now and then, the volunteers let one of the queues through, seemingly at random. One Gujarati group was quite miffed at the apparent favouritism and voiced their protest.
We were finally let through only to be stopped at another point. Here, we had to exchange the first pass for a another one.
Once again the queue was stopped and a volunteer gave us some information on MatriMandir in a strange accent and barely passable English. We were also told that we were to remain completely silent from this point onwards. Many people started to giggle and were admonished. Anyone who makes noise, said the volunteer, would be sent back. It was a throwback to the days of "finger on your lips." Only this time, it was much harder to remain silent!
We soon marched out to MatriMandir. The sight of the Mandir was engaging - a large dome of golden discs with petal-like (meditation?) chambers surrounding it. This was in the midst of a lovely garden. On one side was a shallow stadium kind of area with an urn containing earth from a hundred odd countries. We also saw a tiny but lovely orchid garden. We were distracted from all this by the ubiquitous volunteers who kept urging us to keep in line and stay quiet. Our queue was also stopped intermittently, making the 10-minute walk to the dome seem very long.
When we finally reached the dome, there was a steep climb to the entrance. Once inside we ascended a kind of broad spiral pathway inside the sphere. This pathway hugs the inner circumference of the sphere. The climb was tough for most of the older people and I am sure they would've liked to be forewarned of such an arduous journey. But then, the volunteers' attitude was not quite inviting of queries or comments. There was also no easy way of breaking the queue and going back, owing to the narrow path with two lines of people - one ascending and the other descending. As we ascended we realised that the structure was incomplete to a large extent. Save the golden discs on the outside, there were still plenty of girders and beams crisscrossing the inside, and the stairs and path were raw wood with the bolts still showing. Some rough carpets covered the pathway at intervals. At the end of the climb, we entered a small tunnel that led to the sanctum sanctorum.
The sanctum was, quite simply, glorious. Imagine a small circular hall of pure white marble, with simple marble columns rising up to a ceiling of light. In the centre is a large crystal sphere, lit by a small ray of sunlight at its top. Exquisite. Words fail to describe the beauty of the place. The catch is that you are only allowed to see this vision for about half a second. The volunteers ask you to keep moving. Soon, you are ushered out of the complex.
The feeling I had at the end of all this is bewilderment. Why create such a complicated queue system? Why make so much of a fuss about multiple passes if the entry is free? Why not have signs warning of the tough climb ahead? The system reminded me of Tirupati. But then Tirupati has a valid reason for the way it is run - the system, though flawed, is designed to regulate the crowds. The MatriMandir has just a tiny fraction of that crowd. They have no reason to subject visitors to such hardships. The least they can do is do away with the multiple passes and relax the queue system. It would make even the volunteers' work much simpler. The density of the crowd is also an artificial creation. If the visitors were allowed to proceed direct to the Mandir, it would be a shorter and simpler affair. Any fears they may have as to desecration of the place or noise can easily be controlled by a handful of volunteers.
But most of all, what bewildered me is why they would let the public view an unfinished monument. Granted the sanctum is beautiful - even astonishingly so - but I would much rather see it with a completed dome and finished pathways. At the end, I was left with a feeling of dissatisfaction.
All I have to say is, if you're visiting Pondicherry or Auroville in the near future, think twice before visiting the MatriMandir. Or if you really want to see it, go there armed with loads of patience. Or was that what Auroville was trying to teach us?
