The chiming bells , the floral scent , pulsing positive vibes echoed around me .
Some entered with folded hands , some with awe gaping at the Hoisala architecture , but mostly mesmerised by the beauty and divinity that emit from the mother and everything around her .
While I rested casually leaning against a cool column, I saw a figure enter from one of the three entrances placed in cardinal directions . The figure ; a boy , barely ten or twelve years old , his shikha swaying in the ashada wind , draped in shalya ; walked so swiftly swishing the umbrella in his hand probably to dry it of any excess water droplets ; proceeded to prostrate before the goddess .
With one swift turn and before I realized he had completed paying his obeisance around the circum-ambulatory path and with a final bow to the goddess he strode out of the sanctum through the opposite exit.
I watched all that in silence , not aware of my own racing thoughts , enveloped in awe and admiration .
Perhaps a couple minutes passed and then through the same entrance as the boy had entered , like a swarm of bees , students , their attire very much like the boy’s breezed in.
I was still frozen at the same spot and suddenly it occurred to me that , these students , from veda-pathashaala have been the harbingers of an age old legacy , mastering knowledge rooted to our country ; that would probably be lost knowledge if it weren’t for them.
Their place of dwelling and study situated in a secluded place unknown to many , where they practised a disciplined life of a brahmin.
I had come to realise that my wildest dream to be in a place of fantasy , something out of a book had come true .
It is rather astonishing that I could gather words to describe heaven to this extent . For the feeling of peace and tranquillity of Sringeri can hardly be put to words but can only be felt and experienced .
*I understand Sringeri is no longer a hamlet but a thriving town . However , the word hamlet is used only to title the descriptive paragraph *