A Holy Bath in the Tirumala Hills

On my way to the shrine to Ganga (India’s holiest river) at Papavinasanam I avoided looking in the direction of little Ramu while he pranced around his handler lest I pause and let the little fellow inveigle me with his charms and delay my schedule. I have difficulty in telling the age of a monkey just by looking at its face excepting of course when they’re newly born and only a few days old.


Looking at Ramu’s face, his wrinkles et al, I found very little in his expressions and his turn of nose to suggest how far he must have traveled into this world. It was his tiny frame, and a hint of unsteady movement as he walked around exploring all that triggered his curiosity that indicated that maybe he was a little over a month or two old.

The madari, as the keeper of monkeys is known, had put Ramu to work along the narrow path that led on to Papavinasanam, one of the sacred places that pilgrims while on their pilgrimage to the Venkateswara temple at Tirumala, a little over five kilometers away, take time off to visit for a bath in the holy water.


Papavinasanam means ‘ridding sins’. Here pilgrims opt for a holy bath under one of the seven streams of water descending from high above their heads and conducted through openings set high in the wall. Bathing in the sacred water is believed to rid one of sins accrued in deviating from a life of piety.

Those who’ve been visiting Papavinasanam at Tirumala since long recollect of a time when there were no openings in the wall to conduct the holy water that is said to emanate from the Papavinasanam river. Apparently the water used to stream down the height without any conduit channeling it down. It was only later that outlets were made in the wall to channel the sacred water to the convenience of visiting pilgrims, and seven outlets ensure there’re no long queues at the place.

Adjacent to the bath is a dam that goes by the same name as the bath, Papavinasanam. It is one of the three dams the temple town sources its water requirements from, and is 255 metres in length with a catchment area of 8.44 Sq. Kms. The other two dams are the Akashganga, and the Gogarbham.



In the backdrop of the hills and hidden by vegetation from where I stand, the dam stretches like a stairway to the hills across the valley. Standing there I traced the length of the dam as it seemingly bisected the valley, open skies stretching on either side. There was no context to measure it against except the wide open skies and that gave the dam a feel of an ancient fortress guarding angels in the skies. At 9.14 metres, the width of the dam along its length gave it a feel of a massive gateway to somewhere mysterious, somewhere where mortals are barred from entering.


White clouds rode the blue skies, and as they moved along, their shadows fell on the hills beneath. I looked at the clouds in the skies, watching them drag their shadows with them as if drawing a blanket over the hills beneath, turning them a deep shade of green.


While we were there, pilgrims came visiting Papavinasanam in their hundreds. They came in jeeps, in cars, and in buses. Some had shaved their heads at Tirumala in obeisance to the deity, Venkateswara, before traveling to the holy bath, others came barefoot and bare-chested. Then there were families and children, and the young and the elderly, all heading to the bath for a shower under one of the seven giant mouths conveying the sacred water from considerable height, all hoping to leave behind things they must have regretted doing at some point in their lives.



It must hurt I thought to have a shower nozzle that high up, but there was no sign that the water conducted down in narrow streams hurt anyone. Devotees smiled as they cast their clothes away and made for the baths, turning their faces up to catch the streams on their faces, grimacing as it stung the skin.

However not all devotees will have traveled to Papavinasanam for the purpose of cleansing their sins away, actually most wouldn’t have. Devotees usually make their pilgrimage to the Tirumala hills to seek blessings of the deity, Venkateswara, and depending on the time available to them before they make their way back from Tirumala hills to whence they had traveled from they will schedule a quick trip to Papavinasanam, and Akashganga since they both lie within a radius of five kilometers of the Venkateswara temple.

The holy bath at Papavinasanam finds mention in the puranas, the ancient Hindu texts dating back thousands of years. The display board at the entrance to the bath says, “According to Sri Venkatachala puranam a holy bath in this theertham will purify the sins of the devotees and bless them with peace, prosperity and progress. Sunday combined with Shukla Paksha Sapthami in the month of Aswayuja or Dwadasi with Uttarabhadra star is an auspicious day in the teertham. The prominence of this theertham was also mentioned in Skanda puranam.”

Children gloried in the opportunity the bath provided them to frolic in the water, no doubt egged on by the communal nature of the bath. Then there were other children they could join with and share playful pranks under the water coursing down. Excited squeals rent the air as they splashed water on each other, delighting in the freedom to run free. Before the end of the day many a new friendships will have been forged among them, only to go their separate ways as their families bore them away back to where they came from.

Memories are etched the strongest in the moment of separation!

In the warmth of the morning Sun, with clear skies for a roof, a sense of purpose is often strengthened in the shared nature of faith and so it was watching pilgrims partake joyously of their own experience in the bath as from watching others do likewise.


To one corner of the bath lies a shrine to Ganga, the holiest of Indian rivers, revered and worshipped as a deity. At the shrine pilgrims visiting Papavinasanam make offerings to Goddess Ganga while seeking her blessings. On a low platform the statue of the deity was barely visible amidst the garlands adorning her. Priests were busy offering prayers, chanting sacred hyms while worshipers stood at the entrance, hands folded, deep in prayer.

To the other corner lay changing rooms for women for use before stepping in for the holy bath, and afterwards, to change into dry clothes. There was none for men that I could see.


A little girl held up a mirror to a young woman as she combed her hair after the bath, the girl watching the woman’s face intently while the woman looked into the mirror unwavering, patting each strand back in place.


A family of three stood at the parapet, the father lifting his daughter so she could see the bathers below, then turning her to her mother so she could adjust the little girl’s dress. If he lifted her any higher she would’ve been within reach of a passing cloud. As more pilgrims walked in they first stood at the top peering over the parapet to watch devotees bathing below before themselves walking down the steps and getting under the water streaming from above.

Sometimes it is in participating in a community that one achieves a sense of completion, and at other times, a sense of closure.

We prepared to make our way back to where the jeep we’d hired waited for us to return us to the Venkateswara temple, the reason we’d traveled to Tirumala from Tirupati where we were put up on arriving from Bombay. The previous day we bought tickets for entry to the sacred shrine of Venkateswara to offer prayers to the deity and seek blessings in return, and were allotted the noon slot for entry into the ancient temple dating back centuries. With time on our hands until noon we’d hired the jeep to travel to Akashganga, and Papavinasanam, both within a radius of five kilometers from the Venkateswara temple.


On the way back from the sacred bath we passed vendors on either side of the path. In makeshift stalls items on sale ranged from souvenirs, handicrafts, religious books, incense sticks, combs, hair-bands, to salted mango slices, and pictures of Hindu deities.

At the turn where I had first seen them as we took the path leading to the Papavinasanam bath, Ramu the little monkey and his handler were engaged in engaging passing devotees, collecting money from enthralled passers-by. Ramu watched the madari count the money he received from passers-by.



I paused so I could photograph little Ramu. No sooner I squatted to draw level with Ramu sitting tightly squeezed under the madari’s arm, he said something to Ramu that I couldn’t quite pick, and in a jiffy Ramu responded to the madari’s instruction and leapt over to me and sat on my lap, running his tiny hands on my stomach as if to say “Hey, you’ve a full belly here, help me fill mine,” his lease trailing from his neck.

I could barely feel his weight. People around me smiled at the picture little Ramu and I made together. I smiled too. I passed Ramu a banana and he made little work of it in no time.

Sometimes the joy of being accepted comes from acceptance by the unexpected.

In time Ramu will learn new tricks. He will learn to salute, to somersault, and many other things so that he can amuse passing devotees. If devotees stopped being amused by Ramu there’s just a chance a baby monkey somewhere will get to stay with its mother!


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