The Hidden Dangers of Watching Tamil Talk Shows Like Neeya Naana

We live in a time of heightened political, social, and even psychological polarization. Our views and opinions have become extremely divided, making it harder for us to find a common ground in all walks of life. 

This is why I feel compelled to talk about so-called revolutionary Tamil talk shows—Neeya Naana, Vaa Tamizha Vaa, and others—that significantly shape our beliefs, perceptions, and reasoning. These shows are consumed by millions across platforms and hold immense influence in Tamil communities worldwide.

Why Did I Decide to Write This?

One day, while casually scrolling through my Facebook feed, a clip from Neeya Naana popped up. The conversation was short, crisp, and engaging. 

Curious, I continued scrolling and more such feeds appeared. All the content shown on the feed revolved around relationships, gender issues, societal norms, stereotypes, cultural conflicts, etc. 

While some of the content was indeed thought-provoking, others left me wondering, “Would someone really say this in public?” Unsurprisingly, many speakers in the videos were harshly criticized and trolled in the comment sections.

That’s when I began digging deeper—how are these shows made, what is their agenda, and what impact do they really have on society?

How Tamil Talk Shows are Conducted?

The most popular Neeya Naana show hosted by the articulate Gopinath was first premiered in Star Vijay in 2006. Much of its success can be attributed to his hosting style and ability to facilitate an engaging and insightful debate on sensitive topics. 

The channel brings two groups of people on a common platform to debate for and against on a specific topic. The participants voice their views based on their background and experience. Apparently, the show is filmed over 5 to 6 hours on the set, and then edited down to a 1 hour broadcast (excluding ads). 

Participants often display raw emotions—anger, frustration, empathy—that deeply resonate with viewers. Gopinath, acting as a mediator, sometimes aligns with or opposes a viewpoint based on his own judgment and experience. One wrong move, however, can cast either the speaker or the host in a negative light.

Here’s the critical issue: the authenticity of these shows is debatable. Because the show's appeal lies in compelling drama and heated exchanges, there's a possibility that producers script or manipulate content to maximize engagement and viewership.

Just within a year after launching Neeya Naana, Moorthy GS, a genuine participant, was disappointed by the way the show was organized. He took it online to vent out his anger and dissatisfaction. 

He claimed that the host deliberately allowed only a few people to speak and ignored others - raising questions about fabrication and manipulation. Here are the screenshots of Moorthy’s views on the program. Remember, this happened in 2007. 

Initially, I was tempted to dismiss it all—after all, TV shows are created to profit through viewership. But the issue runs deeper: some of the expressed opinions are socially harmful and dangerously misleading. 

The Danger of Polarized Representation 

Take, for example, a clip featuring a Muslim woman voicing a toxic opinion about placing elders in old-age homes. The language used was dehumanizing. While it’s unclear whether her views were genuine or scripted, such portrayals risk distorting the image of an entire community. Viewers may unfairly associate her statements with Islamic teachings—despite Islam’s emphasis on compassion and respect for elders.

In another show, the anchor Avudaiyappan in Zee Tamil went on to say that men are logical and women are emotional. How can sweeping generalizations like this arise from such limited, context-specific discussions?

In fact, women hold high-responsibility roles in top MNCs and Government sectors. Do they make all decisions based on their emotions? Don’t they apply logic in their decision-making process? 

Likewise, men experience a full spectrum of emotions. These oversimplifications breed division and reinforce false stereotypes.

In another episode, some girls appeared to demand 100 sovereigns of gold, a luxury villa, and a wealthy groom in marriage—with no mention of love. It painted an extremely materialistic image of women, ignoring any nuanced perspectives that might have been edited out for dramatic effect.

This kind of cherry-picked representation projects a skewed view of societal norms and expectations.

How Talk Shows & Debate Undermine Logical Reasoning 

The core structure of these talk shows relies on opposition—one group defending, the other attacking. In such settings, the goal becomes “winning” the debate, not seeking truth. Eloquence overshadows facts. Charisma trumps logic. Participants aim to overpower, not understand.

As a result, clarity suffers. Viewers are left with more confusion, less critical thinking, and a heightened sense of polarization. There’s no fact-checking mechanism to verify the authenticity of the claims made on air. Truth, if any, is buried under performance.

True knowledge and critical reasoning emerge from experience and deep reading—not from watching rehearsed debates edited for TV.

What Should Change?

I strongly believe that schools and colleges must rethink the concept of debates in classrooms or at any events. Instead, the teachers must focus on organizing dialogues that allow the students to be involved in a collaborative thinking process. 

In a dialogue, there are no winners or losers. There’s only shared understanding. Students can ask questions, challenge ideas respectfully, and grow intellectually in a safe, non-polarized environment.

Parvathamalai Then & Now

My recent visit to Parvathamalai stirred a deep reflection on how profoundly social media can reshape our world—sometimes for the better, but often at a cost.

I first set foot on this sacred hill in 2016. Almost a decade later, in February 2025, I returned, only to find a place transformed almost beyond recognition. Back then, the quaint village of Thenmathimangalam—nestled at the base of the hill—had just a handful of shops. It exuded a rustic charm, untouched and serene. I still remember sipping a cup of tea made with rich, creamy milk. As someone who rarely drinks tea or coffee, I surprised myself by having a second cup.

The memories from that first visit remain vivid and dear. (You can still read my 2016 blog post on Parvathamalai for a glimpse of that time.)

The Winds of Change

Change, as we know, is inevitable. But some changes leave a sense of loss that’s hard to reconcile with. My recent trip to Parvathamalai was one such experience.

Thenmathimangalam is now dotted with numerous shops and hotels, driven by the growing popularity of the temple. A newly laid road has made the area more accessible, and autorickshaws now shuttle devotees directly to the base of the hill. Along the way, commercial establishments—lodges, eateries, and souvenir stalls—have mushroomed, especially to serve the weekend influx.

Back in 2016, my college friend and I wandered around cluelessly, searching for the way up. There was only a narrow, dusty trail leading us forward. We were greeted by the crow of roosters at dawn. Today, those natural sounds have been replaced—sadly—by the relentless honking of vehicles.

While chatting with a local shopkeeper, I couldn’t help but ask, “Anna, how did this rapid commercialization happen?” His answer was simple in one word: “YouTube, Thambi.”

It was a moment of realization. As we scroll endlessly through YouTube videos, Instagram reels, and Facebook stories, we don’t always recognize the ripple effects of our digital choices. Content virality brings awareness, yes—but it also brings exploitation.

Booming Economy, Bleeding Ecology

Real estate prices have soared. Locals benefit financially from tourism. The state collects an entry fee of ₹10 from each visitor. In theory, this revenue could support better infrastructure. But the visible damage to the environment tells a different story.

The raw, natural beauty that once defined Parvathamalai is now compromised. Though plastic screening is conducted at the entrance, it’s ironic—and frustrating—that shops lining the hill sell food items in plastic wrappers. As a result, the slopes are littered with garbage, tarnishing the once-pristine surroundings.

I still remember the taste of freshly prepared paniyaram, a beloved regional delicacy. It’s now nearly extinct—replaced by packaged biscuits, soft drinks, and water bottles.

Devotion Without Responsibility

It’s disheartening that most devotees behave irresponsibly. Chanting “Om Namah Shivaya” with great fervor, they simultaneously leave behind heaps of plastic. What use is devotion if it’s not accompanied by mindfulness toward the very nature that nurtures this sacred space?

Despite periodic clean-up drives by NGOs and volunteers, the damage is overwhelming. Plastics have found their way into places you’d never imagine—some irretrievable.

A Call for Consciousness

This blog might sound like a lament, but it is grounded in reality. The situation is dire, and if we don’t act now, the ecological and cultural sanctity of Parvathamalai may never recover.

Change starts with us. If you’re planning a visit, go as a pilgrim, not a consumer. Let’s strive to be more aware, more respectful, and more responsible. Only then can we hope to preserve the spirit of Parvathamalai for generations to come.

If Poverty Had A Face…

It was Christmas eve.  As I stood in front of the mirror, I suddenly realized I needed a haircut before the celebration. So, I grabbed my bike keys and started off to Mayilaudy, a nearby village where I can find a salon. 

Halfway there, it began to drizzle. I managed to stop at the nearest salon I could find to escape what felt like the showers of blessing. As I stepped in, I was taken aback. The place was empty, except for two North Indian men, seemingly waiting for customers.

As I found out the salon is owned by them, I hesitated for a moment if I should enter or step back to find another place. It’s not that I hate their presence in this southern part of the country, but communication was always a challenge when explaining the style I wanted. Plus, my preconceived ideas about their hygienic practices - however unfounded - made me uneasy. 

The rain slowly picked up its pace and it began pouring. I had no other option but to surrender my head to the Northies. I initiated the conversation saying, ‘cut it short’. The barber began parting my hair and snipping away. 

A few moments later, a short man in his early forties walked in wearing a Dhoti, accompanied by a barefoot, five-year old girl, clad in tattered clothes with unkempt hair. She was scratching her scalp incessantly, and it seemed she hadn’t washed her hair in days. 

The man asked the barber to give her a haircut. She then mounted a tall chair twice her size and looked at herself in the mirror. An indescribable sadness engulfed me as she sat on the chair beside me. 

The barber asked the man if the little girl was his daughter. He nodded in disapproval, saying, ‘No’. 

“Her mother is gone, and the father is a wastrel, who spends all his money on liquor. He pays no attention to his daughter,” said the man. 

“I’m in no way related to her. I work at a nearby construction site. But seeing her plight, I wanted to help,” added he. 

From their conversation, I gathered that she was staying with relatives for food and shelter. Yet, even basic grooming and clothes were neglected.

As the barber gently began cutting her hair, she winced. The back of her head was infected, oozing pus. Dirt had turned to flakes, and constant scratching had worsened the wounds. The barber, sensing her pain, took extra care, cutting slowly and cautiously.

It was a heart-wrenching sight—a helpless young girl caught in the web of misfortune. I couldn't bear to imagine my own daughter in her place.

The barber eventually shaved off all her hair, exposing the raw wounds underneath. The child never smiled, not even once. Her face was a portrait of hardship, a silent testimony to a life devoid of the comforts and joys most children take for granted.

With no mother and a father lost to drink, her future looks bleak. Yet I hold on to the hope that with the right education, she rises above her circumstances and becomes a successful and inspiring personality. 

They say comparison is a thief of joby. But sometimes it makes you aware of your blessings. 

Count yours. And help those in need with a joyful heart. 

God loves a cheerful giver! 

A Simple Question with a Big Impact - Lesson Learned from A 6-Year Old Boy

It was a busy afternoon in Chennai, I was making my way to the office at a scorching noon around 2 PM. Walking through the expansive North Parade road, I found the merciless sunlight somewhat bearable. After a few strides, I came across a fruit shop near Montfort School, St. Thomas Mount and I decided to savour a bowl of watermelon to quench my thirst and beat the heat.  

I noticed that some of the Kindergarten students were already leaving the school, being picked up by their parents. While munching on the melons, I saw a six-year old boy dressed up in uniform, holding a long pink candy in his hand. 

He seemed deep in thought, his gaze fixed on the stack of candies before him, as if he were reconsidering his choice. Meanwhile, the shop owner who was in a foul mood was yelling at another customer. 

The little boy came close to me and asked in a friendly tone, “Anna, can you put this one back on the stack and get me the yellow candy?” Slowly, taking a bite on the melon, I made up my mind to help him. Before I could act, overhearing the conversation between us, the shop owner stared at us and angrily asked the boy, “What is it with you? What do you want?”

Startled by her sharp tone, the boy hesitated for a moment before gathering the courage to say, “I don’t want this pink candy. Can I please exchange it for the yellow one?”

She shot him a stern look but complied. The boy, now holding his favorite candy, beamed with happiness. 

Here is what made the whole event so interesting. Emboldened with confidence and happiness after receiving the candy, he stared  back at her and enthusiastically asked, “ Saaptingala?” [Have you eaten?] 

His question that came all of a sudden shocked her. Such an unexpected concern from a small boy melted her irritation away. Her demeanor softened, and she broke into a smile. “You’re a smart and witty little boy,” she said, amused. 

Watching this whole event unfold before my eyes, I couldn't just stop wondering at the wisdom of the boy who handled the situation so effortlessly and turned things around in his favor. Somehow, the boy sensed that the lady was upset and showing a little bit of concern would put her at ease. 

Historically, the human mind is engineered to enjoy a state of happiness and blissfulness when the basic needs-food, sleep, and comfort-are met. And probably, we know in our subconscious mind that these are the most essential things to be happy. 

In our culture, ‘Saaptingala’ is more than just a greeting - it’s an expression of care and kindness. Because only a full stomach fosters a happy mind. So, whenever you meet someone next time, remember this little boy’s wisdom, “Saaptingala”. It can go a long way in spreading warmth and compassion.

A Journey Through Kindness: The Tale of Muthukumar and the Magic of Kolli Hills

In a world full of people constantly sacrificing happiness over fulfilling job expectations, accumulating wealth, and living a respectful life that the society demands, finding individuals who embrace an effortless and relaxed way of life has become a rare and remarkable phenomenon.

Muthukumar, a ticket distributor for the Tamil Nadu State Transportation Corporation (TNSTC), appears to be in his late forties or early fifties. Clad in a light blue shirt and dark blue pants, he stands about 5 feet 3 inches tall, with light brown skin and a fair complexion. His clean-shaven face, adorned with an ordinary mustache and neatly combed salt-and-pepper hair, radiates warmth. His most striking feature, however, is his ever-present, welcoming smile—a smile that seems to instantly connect him with every passenger who steps onto his bus.

I first encountered this incredible personality during a journey from Namakkal to Kollimalai. From the moment he greeted me with a polite nod, I sensed there was something extraordinary about him. What struck me most was his kindness and patience with the passengers. Whether they were old acquaintances or strangers, he spoke to them as if they were lifelong friends, his tone laced with genuine respect and cheerfulness.

Politeness came naturally to him, and it stood out. Not once did he lose his temper or utter a harsh word, even in situations where most people would have faltered. Having encountered ticket distributors who often struggle to maintain composure in challenging moments, Muthukumar's calm demeanor was a pleasant surprise. At first, I thought of him as an extraordinary man navigating an ordinary world. But as the journey unfolded, I realized he was so much more.

As the government bus began its ascent through the lush green roads of Karavalli, the gateway to Kollimalai, more passengers boarded. To my amazement, nearly every one of them greeted Muthukumar with a salute, a warm smile, or a friendly exchange. He responded with equal familiarity, addressing each by name. It was clear he had been working this route for a long time, forming bonds with the community that ran deeper than mere professional courtesy.

A group of schoolgirls teased him playfully, filling the bus with laughter. Muthukumar responded in kind, his eyes twinkling with joy. A quiet boy with a tattered bag caught his attention. Reaching out with gentle affection, Muthukumar pressed the boy’s cheek and asked, “Ennada kanna, silent-ah irukka?” The boy's face lit up with a shy grin, and the silent connection they shared spoke volumes.

Later, a woman carrying a newborn boarded the crowded bus, struggling to find a seat. Without hesitation, Muthukumar ensured she and her baby were comfortably settled. When they alighted at their stop, he watched attentively, making sure they descended safely. The woman waved and thanked him warmly—a gesture that underscored the genuine care he extended to every passenger.

At that moment, it dawned on me: Muthukumar was living up to the meaning of his name, which translates to "precious gem."

This two-and-a-half-hour journey wasn’t just a ride; it was a lesson in life. Until then, I had believed that routine jobs, devoid of creativity, lacked purpose and fulfillment. My perspective was shattered. Here was a man who found immense joy and meaning in what some might dismiss as a mundane role.

Purpose, I realized, doesn’t always have to be grand or world-changing. It can be found in the small, often-overlooked acts of kindness that brighten someone’s day. Happiness doesn’t depend on recognition; it thrives in the simplicity of doing the right thing and living in harmony with oneself and others.

As my friend and I continued exploring Kolli Hills, taking local buses to different places, I noticed something remarkable. Muthukumar wasn’t an exception—he was part of a pattern. Most of the drivers and ticket distributors shared a familial rapport with the passengers. They exchanged jokes, celebrated good news, and inquired about each other’s well-being, creating a camaraderie that was heartwarming and rare.

The magic of Kolli Hills wasn’t just in its misty landscapes or serene vistas. It lay in the simplicity and warmth of its people—the kind of magic that lingers in your heart long after you leave.

When you visit Kolli Hills, skip the private cabs and hop onto a local bus. Experience the joy of these heartfelt interactions and the charm of the journey. You’ll come away with not just memories but life lessons that stay with you forever.

To hear more about this inspiring story, check out my YouTube channel. The video is linked below. Let the magic of Kolli Hills touch your soul, just as it did mine.

Chennai’s Obscene Obsession With Biryani - A Threat To Traditional Culinary Heritage

I recently moved to the Greater Chennai after a period of 4 years. My second first impression of the city was one of uneasiness. Each day, a huge chunk of people migrate to the city from different parts of the country. Skyscrapers are sprouting up every nook and corner, obscuring the green carpet of the town. People are seemingly busy round the clock to make both their ends meet. Most top companies operate 24x7 keeping the city life busy and active. The city is undoubtedly bustling with so much energy, but something that caught my eyes raised so many questions – is it heading the right direction?
I was commuting to office in a public transport on a sunny day, and I happen to secure a window seat that allowed me to get a perfect view of the city. As the journey progressed, I couldn’t help but notice multitude of restaurants on the roadside. Most of them sell nothing but Biryani. A city is identified with what it provides to the residents, and Biryani has become an inevitable identity to Chennai. What was once an occasional indulgence has now become a stable diet to thousands of people. This transition is without a doubt an unhealthy phenomenon that threatens to overshadow other culinary practices and healthy dietary habits, which were integral part of Chennai’s heritage. But that’s not all, it paves the way for fostering an inferior perception of the traditional diet that we once cherished.

"While there is nothing wrong to fill our stomach with what we love and enjoy, we are gradually conditioning our taste buds and sensory receptors to one specific taste that will dominate our memories and influence the characteristics we pass on to our next generation."

Does Chennai have nothing else to offer besides this overhyped super food? Within a limit of 5 KM of travel, I could spot nearly over 25 Biryani shops. That’s quite a huge number. They say, “Familiarity breeds contempt” – but in the case of this overrated food, the obsession seems to be swelling in great proportion each passing day. The blend of spices and the tantalizing aroma stimulate the taste buds, creating an unquenchable craving.
In corporate culture, at events, festivals, celebrations, and parties, Biryani holds a special place, and it’s the single most commonly preferred dish. Most of the office-goers keep it a ritual to consume it at least once a week. Families prefer dining out at signature Biryani restaurants on weekends, fueling its demand to all time high.
While there is nothing wrong to fill our stomach with what we love and enjoy, we are gradually conditioning our taste buds and sensory receptors to one specific taste that will dominate our memories and influence the characteristics we pass on to our next generation. Because they inherit all the qualities and health which are by-products of our own choices.
Biryani is undoubtedly a special dish, but I only wish that this is not the only special food for all!

My Intense Moments At Coimbatore Railway Station

I waved goodbye to my friend who was travelling to Chennai in Cheran Express, and I was waiting on the floor between Platform 1 and 2 at Coimbatore Railway station, watching the display board before me for the announcement of Platform number of train bound for Kanyakumari. 

It was around 11:15 PM, and the weather was a bit cold and pleasant due to the heavy downpour an hour ago. A lady in her fifties with two bags of luggage appeared to be confused and perplexed about something came to me hesitantly and asked if I could help her find out on which platform her train would arrive. Her slang and accent suggested she was a Malayali woman. I immediately asked her for the train number, and she took her mobile out and showed me the seat number and PNR number. There was no detail about the train number. I said, “This is not the train number.” She was staring at me with an innocent and ignorant face and asked in her Malayalam minced Tamil, “What to do?”

Pitying her helpless situation, I took out my smartphone and entered the PNR number to get the details. The train number showed as 16381—Kanyakumari Express, the same as the one I am traveling by. With a confident tone, I said, “I am also traveling by the same train, and I will inform you the platform number the next moment it gets displayed on the board before us.”

Although she felt relaxed and relieved at my reply, she was still not sure whether to believe me or not. I tried to convince her but in vain. So she decided to find it out herself by going down to the information center located at the entrance. Meanwhile, she politely asked me if I could watch over her luggage. Quite happy to help a lady in need, I said, “Yes.” She rushed down the stairs frantically, and my tired eyes were eagerly looking at the LED display for the announcement. And in a few seconds, there it came, Platform No. 1.

“Oops, it’s out, this lady could have waited a few seconds more; waste of time going to the information centre, Poor old lady,” I thought. 

In a few moments, a creepy feeling started to emerge from deep down my mind. “What if the luggage had something that can cause terror?” “What if the lady used me?” The whole world stopped in front of me. 

My eyes were scanning the crowd around me: innocent children happily playing with elders, shopkeepers dutifully selling their goods, hawkers shouting at high decibels, “Briyani’ Briyani,” a father kissing his son on the forehead before sending off, and ticket-checking officials casually walking across platforms. All my frozen mind could think was, “Are we all gonna die in a few seconds?” 

“What does the luggage have? Is it what they call RDX? Will the explosion be massive? “Will I be able to save myself if I run a few meters away? Should I lift the luggage and check? No, what if it bursts out immediately? How will the fire come out of the bag? What will be the range of impact? Did the lady carry the remote control device with her to trigger it after she reached a safe position? How long will she take to pull the trigger? The lively atmosphere of this place is going to turn upside down with people panicking and rushing to the exit, and I’m not going to be alive to witness it. Should I alert someone about the luggage? What if nothing is in there, and the lady appears in a few moments?” a flurry of thoughts overwhelmed my mind. 

My cognizant mind suggested that there were no traces of a wicked or sinister nature on the lady’s face. But my mind still refused to believe it. With each passing microsecond, my heartbeat began to rise uncontrollably. Instinctively, I slowly started to move away from the carelessly placed luggage as I decided against alerting anyone. I thought of hiding behind a shop so that I could escape with minor injuries. 

Just when I was about to take the next step, there she appeared like an angel signaling No. 1 with her index finger. My heart erupted in joy, and the uneasy thoughts that clouded my mind started vanishing instantly. I raised my index finger and said with a relieved and joyful face, yes “No.1”. My lucid mind said, “Thanks for not being a terrorist.” 

Later, she thanked me profusely and bought me a cup of coffee. I helped her board the train and headed to my compartment. 

A One Day Trip to Unwind With Your Family at Swamimalai (Yelagiri Hills)

Worried about your fitness? Fed up of maintaining diet to size up your figure? Bored up of visiting malls, movie theatres on weekends? Tired of starring at your computer monitor at the workplace? A simple, easy trek can rejuvenate your spirit and give an alternate experience of life.

Many are afraid to go on a trekking due to the challenges it presents on the journey: fear of wild jungle, fear of bodily strength, fear of getting stranded in an unknown place etc. But I assure you, this trek could change all your assumptions, and this can even be your first step to begin your adventure.

Swamimalai, a small hill, lies on the mountains of Yelagiri close to the scenic village ‘Mangalam’. We left from Chennai by bus around 1 am in the early morning and reached Jolarpettai at dawn. A bus from there took us to Yelagiri in an hour. As the vehicle ascended through precarious bends, it gave goosebumps at every turn. Beaten by the cold spell, we yearned for the sun to show its full glory.

Mangalam is a quaint village, mostly undisturbed by the burgeoning population except for the visitors from nearby towns especially on weekends. People, here, depend on farming for livelihood and the green vicinity is the clear proof how agriculture is done in full swing.

As we alighted, I was apprehensive if I could find a toilet in this small village. An old man directed me to the toilet, and to my utter surprise, it was neat and clean with modern flush system which is even hard to find in cities.

Snaking through the tiny hamlet, we trailed upward to Swamimalai. The climb uphill is a pleasant experience with breathing fresh air of the mountain and listening to the occasional cry of the birds and insects. It was an easy trek as the path is well paved out due to frequent visitors and intermittent man-made steps along the way.

Locals sell fruits grown from their farm to earn few bucks from the tourists. It was interesting to indulge in a friendly chat with them and get to know about their customs and traditions. On reaching the top, a breath-taking view of the hill was the gift of our climb. With clouds and fogs sweeping over the canopy of the mountain, it was an ethereal experience to be one with nature.

This is an ideal trek to enjoy with your family as it does not present any dangers and exert much energy needed for rigorous climb. Commencing your trip in the early morning is recommended as the sun may not be merciful in the noon. The climb may take up to 3 hours to reach the top and less than 2 hours for coming down. Behave responsibly without littering as lot of animals die due to plastic consumption.

Eventually to spice up the trip, we tried to find an alternate route for descending. But the unclear path sent chills through our nerves, we quit our endeavour and returned for the sake of not getting into trouble in the middle of a jungle. Below is the video showing how we tried to seek adventure through a path less known to us.

Mythical and Mystical Town Rameshwaram

During my schooling, I never missed an excursion except the one which was to the holy town Rameshwaram. Since then, it was lingering in my mind that I must not miss to set foot on this mysterious island. The day finally dawned, and here I am at the land known for Teertham, pristine beaches, unabating fishermen dispute and a significant landmark in the Hindu mythology of Ramayana.

Connecting the mainland from the island is the majestic Pamban Bridge and the railway track, which are built across the sea stretching two kilometers. The joy is ineffable when travelling on the train through the bridge with the breathtaking view of the blue ocean.

View of the Pamban Bridge at dusk

Pilgrims mostly from Northern India converge to this historical site mainly to perform religious rituals, believing to be cleansed of past sins and mistakes, as Rama did after battling the mighty Ravana. The town reverberates with the chants of ‘Hare Ram’ throughout the year. But over enthusiastic involvement in religion paves ways for manipulation and exploitation, which are evident around the temple. Exorbitant prices in basic commodities, rise of overpriced accommodations and the irking brokers are the main things to be vigilant and cautious about the trip.

Devotees queuing in the early morning at the Teertham well

The temple compound holds twenty two small wells that have springs of good water believed to be Teertham or Holy Water. After buying a ticket of twenty five rupees, the devotees stand in a long queue to drench themselves from the water of twenty two wells. Reckoning to be the shortcut to cleanse the sins, the zealous pilgrims are over excited to get maximum amount of water. The staffs who administer them operate through brokers and earn a hefty sum through commissions, and their profit is quite staggering during festivals and holidays.

Besides all these chaos, one cannot fail to admire the intricate carvings on the rock pillars and the architecture of the temple. Unparalleled precision in placement of pillars is spellbinding and to reproduce a similar structure with the use of modern technology is unthinkable.

Pillars in Ramanathaswamy Temple

Ghost Town, Dhanushkodi

Marred by cyclones, sea disasters and proclaimed uninhabitable in 1967 by the Madras Presidency, this peninsula never fails to fascinate the tourists with its clean beaches and remnants of ruined town. Once a glorious and bustling city in Rameshwaram is now occupied by few fisher folk whose lives depend on fishing and tourism.

Beach in Dhanushkodi

A jostling van ride along the seashore to the tip of the island is sure to rattle your nerves and bones. Painted in blue by the ocean as far as the eyes could see and caressed by the gentle salty breeze, a feeling of melancholy emerges on seeing the ruins of once a thriving town. A church, post office, railway station, small temple and a few dilapidated houses still bear the marks of gory sea calamities.

Ghost Town-Dhanushkodi

According to the legend Ramayana, Rama set stones afloat to build a bridge across the sea towards Sri Lanka in his quest to rescue wife Sita. Such stones even now can be found in the vicinity.

Floating stone placed in front of a temple in Dhanushkodi

Memorable experiences to take home

The inimitable art work with rocks, frescos and murals inside Ramanathaswamy Temple mattered to me more than the Theertham pilgrims crave for.

The sand in Dhanushkodi is as white as sugar and striding along the shore with the view of azure blue sea entrenches in a romantic affair.

Charming Locals: the hospitality and warmth of the people left me spellbound. Exploring every tourist attraction by the city bus is the best way to experience the local life and an eye-opener to break the stereotypes of solo travelling.

Breathtaking moments at the Pamban Bridge: On the train inching across the bridge with a view of the mighty ocean and engulfed by the torrent wind gave me Goosebumps.

Cradle of Religious Harmony: It was heartwarming to see people of different religions co-exist in this island peacefully with a mutual respect, which is the major beauty of this beautiful island.

Hidden Treasure by the Shores of Bay of Bengal- Tharangambadi

As they say, unplanned trips are often more exciting, my visit to Tharangambadi was totally unexpected. It was mid-afternoon; the sun was ungraceful, pouring all its fury upon the earth. Reaching the spot emaciated, I found the King’s street that leads to the Fort Dansborg (aka) Danish Fort. As the name suggests, the street is indeed structured to be used by a king with architectural bungalows and centuries old churches.

King Street that leads to the Fort

A Christian Church on King Street

A colonial building opposite to the Fort

As I walked through, vivid imaginations ran in the back of my head. Back then, four centuries ago devoid of modern transport services, explorers sailed across the sea all the way from Europe to the shores of Bay of Bengal in Tharangambadi to establish their settlement.

View of Fort Dansborg from the sea

Fort Dansborg majestically overlooking the sea is the major attraction for the tourists from all over the world, as it stands as the monument and living proof for European voyagers. And moreover, it holds priceless historical artifacts, evidences and interesting tales.

Smoking Pipes Uses by the Danish

The fort built by the Danish was used for several reasons from trading to spreading Christianity in India. European missionaries printed New Testament in Tamil in this very place. Once an active spot that saw white men involved in trade and fighting wars now remains a museum preserving the historical events intact in record.

The view of the ocean from the fort is breathtaking and we cannot fail to fall in love with the surrounding.Rejuvenated by the caressing wind, my enthusiasm shot up and I made up my mind to visit another historical monument.

View of Bay of Bengal from the Fort

Spiritual awakening at the coastal district (Nagapattinam)of Tamil Nadu.

Vailankanni Old Church

What draws all men and women to historic religious places? What is the purpose of converging in a particular location to experience spirituality? I was on a trip to witness it. My first visit was to Vailankanni Basilica located on the seashore of Nagapattinam district. Being an iconic landmark for Christianity, this holy place attracts people of all religions. Ardent devotion to Mother Mary is evident in the vicinity.

Multiple churches have been erupted and the imposing architect is a resemblance of British art forms. Large amount of hotels and lodges have sprung up to accommodate the ever-flowing devotees. And never to forget that Tsunami took its toll on December 26, 2004, leaving an air of melancholy around the region.

Water Tank at Nagore Dargah

My next step was to Nagore Dargah, an Islamic holy place that too attracts devotees from other religions. The mosque has multiple entries that one might get lost inside the building. At centre placed the tomb of the Saint Shahul Hamid, who helped people gain good health during 16^th century. Just behind the mosque is the huge water tank where the devotees take bath. As the day was sultry, I soaked myself into the water for an hour. The exciting part of travelling is meeting anonymous people and interacting with them. I made an acquaintance with a schoolboy from Dindigul, who visited the place with his family.

Several questions conceptualize in my mind from the visit to these two holy places; why do people throng such landmarks? Is it out of unfettered devotion or driven by desperation, to gain spiritual experience or prosperous life for oneself and the family, to wash off their sins or to make room for committing more? Be it anyway, the behavior of the devotees at these surroundings are remarkable, they are kind, loving and warm-hearted. They are in a trance surrendering them totally to a supreme power.

After a refreshing dip at the pool, I set off to leave the shrine. As I exit the mosque, I noticed a signboard displaying ‘Tharangambadi’ at the distance of 27Km. What more to say, the journey continues….