VISIT TO JALPESH AND JATILESHWAR

It is not bad to be bitten by wanderlust every now and then. It refreshes us, gives us strength to face forthcoming ordeals at our workplaces. That is why I give special attention to strolling once in a while. Our great poet had once lamented that we travel far and wide, but often do not manage time to step outside our house and notice dewdrops on rice-plants. Being a resident of the beautiful northern Bengal, I have decided to visit places in the Dooars, quite near our place, as far as possible. During our tour to Haldibari in July 2012, we decided to visit Jalpesh (and later, at the suggestion of one of my maternal-uncles, Jatileshwar)- a short distance away from Maynaguri, which is known as the 'Gateway to Dooars' and located at a distance of 10 kilometres north of Jalpaiguri. Haldibari-Jalpaiguri road-distance is 25 kilometres.

Dedicated to Lord Shiva - rather, Lord Jalpeshwara - one of the three principal Hindu deities, Jalpesh Temple, located at a distance of approximately three kilometres from Maynaguri, is known to have had been founded in A.D. 1524 by Vishwa Singha (1515-40), an ancient king of the region of Coochbehar and the son of the Mech chieftain Haria Mandal and his wife Hira Hajo.

Singha's son, Nara Narayan, rebuilt the temple, built almost according to Islamic architecture, in 1563, and in 1663, it was further renovated by the Koch King Pran Narayan. Each year, during the monsoon, a Shrabani Mela, that is, a fair in honour of Lord Shiva, is organised at Jalpesh by the Jalpesh Temple Trust, and it brings in thousands and thousands of devotees from all around Bengal and even India. Worshippers enter the temple, mostly located underground, reach the Shiva Linga located deeper where one has to almost lie on his/her chest to touch the Linga, respectfully touch the Lord's 'idol', and pour either milk or water on it. Photography inside the temple is prohibited.

We started for Jalpesh from Haldibari early on a July 2012 morning. We were supposed to go first to Jalpaiguri, and thereafter to Maynaguri, and finally to Jalpesh. When we started from Jalpaiguri, we were apprehensive regarding two factors - since the day of our journey to Haldibari, we were being constantly pounded by drenching rainfall, and there were chances that we would be soaked during our journey to Jalpesh too. And, second, and, more importantly, traffic-jams on the Teesta Bridge, just on the northern outskirts of Jalpaiguri, had reached fabulous proportions from end-2011. That could have seriously jeopardised our tour-plans. Lord Jalpeshwara be praised...there was bright sunshine all around, and we passed through the bridge without encountering a single jam!

The journey to Maynaguri was without any incident too...I was inquisitive, Santanu Bhattacharyya (my 'Santumama') edgy, my maternal grandfather, Amalendranath Roy, troubled and sullen that he had taken a light meal before leaving, and my mother Ratna Roy curious. Taking a right-turn a few kilometres north of Maynaguri, we took the same road as which goes to Changrabandha, feeling bored by the unexceptional surroundings. Dust, broken roads, and hurrying National Permit lorries lay all around us.

However, the scenery began to change as we took a left turn and separated from the road that led to Changrabandha. Often glimpses of pristine, sylvan nature would greet us.

There were a few tea-gardens too. The road was gradually narrowing, and a few bridges, made of iron, had to be cautiously negotiated. "During Shraboni Mela, a few days from now, you could not have recognised these roads", my mama informed us. "They get overcrowded, and thousands of small-time traders open their shops by roadside".

A couple of kilometre ahead...maybe one...and we could finally catch the first glimpse of the majestic dome of the Jalpesh Temple rising, as if to greet us and reassure us that Lord Shiva was there to take care of us. We were fasting, and we wanted to worship him, having had heard about the 'special activities' of the Lord in this area. Already we had enough sunshine and trouble-free movement to come to believe in his benevolence.

Our chauffeur Biswanath Orawn parked our Bolero D.I. multi-utility-vehicle (M.U.V.) in a clearing just outside the temple-gate.

The statues of two elephants, raising an image of Lord Shiva on their trunks, looked both wonderful and menacing. Mess with the Lord, and you are gone!

It was the first gate to the temple. The second was a conventional one, made of iron, for security, and was painted in yellow and sky colours. Inside the temple premises, my maternal grandfather was elated to have discovered one of his acquaintances who was a priest there. Through his directions and aid we could reach inside the main-temple-area without purchasing tickets! Our chauffeur, who came later, was not that lucky! He had to pay the fees - albeit a nominal one - before entering.

I must admit that the brilliant interiors of the temple immediately induced in me an amount of respect for the Lord. We offered aggarbattis and flowers to the idols at the entrance: there were a few apparitions - 'Nandi' and 'Vringi', the followers of Lord Mahadeva - and his pet bull. Thereafter, we were ushered in through a watery and slippery entrance inside the main premises. It was a semi-circular room, with a high, dome-like roof, and painted in white. Although the light inside was insufficient, we could discover some deities having had been stacked against the walls in various corners. At the centre, surrounded by steel-protective-fence, was the main linga, immersed in water. A circular and raised boundary and a sub-boundary separated the deity from the visitors. The idea is that you will have to either squat on your legs or lie on the floor to touch the linga after the priest (purohit) Bhattacharyya performed the worshipping (pooja) for you against a nominal 'respect-fees' (dakshina).

Squatting and lying are words better said than done for touching the linga. I never imagined that the task would be so difficult. Let alone my mother or my maternal uncle, even a tall person like myself could hardly touch the deity, tat too having had planted one of my knees in the sub-boundary, unwatched by the priest. Huffing and puffing after the efforts, I held my mother and my maternal uncle together as we negotiated another slippery way to the other deities located in an exterior section of the temple. We offered our respects there, marvelled at the deep location of another linga deep in the ground, and got holy-strings encircled round our right wrists against a dakshina of Rs. 10/- on an average. We came out, satisfied, got our chauffeur offer pooja too, and were on our way to Jatileshwar.

Jatileshwar is also a 'temple-place' - if I am allowed to use the term - but its temples, mainly dedicated to Lord Shiva, predate that in Jalpeshwar.

Though there are a few other constructions, the principal temple, now in ruins, was probably built during the Gupta rule in India, approximately between A.D. 320 and A.D. 600.

Jatileshwar is 13 kilometres away from Maynaguri, and the temples are spread over a large area, surrounded by lush greenery. There are no entry-fees, and the temples' priests depend on your munificence. I immediately liked the place, especially the huge banyan tree where people make wishes and tie coloured strings. The unwritten rule is that you must come back to the tree to untie the knotted string as and when the Lord would grant your prayer...otherwise, bad luck might engulf you. The main idol of Lord Jatileshwara remains surrounded by 6-feet-water inside the temple, and Mishra, one of the priests, narrated how believers hold their breath to reach the idol, touch Him, and swim back.

There is also a Maa Siddheshwari Mandir, which is also known as 'Kamakshya Temple', and you would not need to visit Kamakshya in Assam if you saw the temple, which also remains full of water during the monsoon.

We paid our respects to the Lord,

but did not offer pooja, and on our way back, we paid a tour to Maynaguri College (located at a picturesque spot)and thereafter to Lataguri,

before reaching Jalpaiguri at around 06:30 p.m. - tired but contended.