They were pilgrims who had descended from Sabriamala the shores of Kanyakumari being the culmination of their pilgrimage. Why in the world are these men wearing black in such heat, I wondered. I was snaking along when all of a sudden a surge of Black surrounded me. The oceanic waters were tempting and I saw myself queuing up for a ferry ticket to the rock memorials. Kanyakumari has this languorous air about it though the heat can play havoc with you. The spectacular morning and evening aside, he is known to rage and blaze, and I just happened to land during one of those sessions. Were it not for His radiance, Kanyakumari, I can assure you, would not give any of those marvelous picture perfect shots.īut you see, like most eminent performers, Lord Surya is classy but wont to tantrums. Yes, there’s also the Kumari Amman or Devi Kanya temple dedicated to the deity who as usual fought the demons single handed, the Portuguese church, the Vivekananda rock memorial, the Thiruvalluvar rock memorial, the Gandhi memorial and sundry other tributes on rock, sand, earth, ether, but none can match the prowess of Lord Surya, the sun god, who steals the limelight. Any one of the elements from this celestial triptych, in combination with the azure confluence- Indian Ocean, Arabian Sea, Bay of Bengal -is the town’s pivotal attraction. But here it’s been raised to the level of a performing art form, with show timing on display at every corner. ![]() So make your choice! A two-day break midst an assignment in Chennai had me seizing my opportunity for this overnight getaway. As far as its climatic seasons go, yes, it does have two: this summer and that summer. The tourist, pilgrim, traveller is always here, though tour operators suggest April as being the pick of the months, when on its full moon day, in a unique occurrence both sunset and moonrise can be seen simultaneously on the horizon. In Kanyakumari, once called Cape Comrin, there’s nothing called ‘peak season’. That was the first and last instance I spent time striking a deal for local transport during my 30 hours at Land’s End. The moment I got out of the station compound, bang opposite was the lodge! True wheeler-dealers, them cabbies. In a 1.5 sq km town how far could far be, I thought, and preferred checking out options on foot. A colleague had scribbled the contact of a lodge near the station and the cabbie was all set to charge a “reasonable” Rs 100 for the “distance”. I trudged off the platform only to be accosted by milling cabbies offering services dime a dozen. ![]() Dashing all my hopes of spending arrival hours cavorting in the trinity of the waters hugging India ’s tip. The Kanyakumari Express chugged into the station dot 9.30 am, perfectly late by three hours.
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