South Canara: Where the Divine Meets the Green

On the way back from Kukke Subramanya

As a child, you visit a place and remember it - for the right reason or the wrong one. If that place leaves no mark, it simply fades away.

About 25 years ago, I embarked on a temple tour across the Western Ghats with my extended family, thanks to my mama and manni (mami). All I knew then was that it would be a fun trip. Beyond that, I had no expectations.

It was a week-long pilgrimage that took us through Shravanabelagola, Belur, Halebeedu, Udupi, Dharmasthala, Sringeri, Kollur, and Horanadu.

Sringeri Sharadamba Temple

I still recall the enchantment of those places. The lush, evergreen slopes of the Western Ghats, bathed in the dusky hues of evening and refreshed by intermittent rain, have stayed etched in my memory ever since. Every turn on those winding roads, with terraced hillsides, charming homes, and coffee and tea plantations blending into the scenery, held an aura that words could never capture. Each stop felt like stepping into a different realm, as though a quiet, divine energy was embracing me from all directions.

Vidyaranya Temple

Among all the temple towns, Sringeri stood apart. The town was magical - serene yet powerful. Legend has it that when Adi Shankaracharya, the proponent of Advaita Vedanta, passed through Sringeri, he witnessed a pregnant frog being sheltered from the sun’s harsh rays by the hood of a snake. Struck by the harmony between natural adversaries, he felt there was something profoundly sacred about the place. There, he established the first of his four Mutts.

That story stayed with me. It was perhaps the first time I truly learned about Adi Shankaracharya and the philosophy of Advaita Vedanta. The vast, open courtyard of the Sharadamba temple, the calm and compassionate face of the Goddess, the layered architecture of the Vidyaranya temple, and the tranquil walk along the Tungabhadra River are still vivid in my mind. Feeding fish by the riverbanks or taking a dip in the Tunga at dawn, I can recall it all as though it happened yesterday.

No trip in South Canara is complete without mentioning the food. The temple meals were simplicity itself:  steaming rice with sambar or rasam, a curry or kootu, and curd to finish. The memory of that rasam lingers still, its tang and the sweetness of jaggery evoking an instant nostalgia.

At twenty, that trip left a deep impact. It shaped my spiritual sensibilities in ways I didn’t realize then. The seed of Advaita Vedanta, the idea of oneness beyond all dualities, took root during that journey.

Years later, just before I left for the U.S., I visited Sringeri once again. Then in 2023, I found myself retracing those same temple routes, this time with deeper eyes and quieter joy. Sringeri had grown into a larger township, but the area around the temple remained unchanged. The temple itself had seen improvements, yet the traditional charm was untouched. I stayed in the same cottage near the temple, ate breakfast at the same Maruti Tiffin Center, and for a moment, it felt as if time had stopped moving.

Agumbe Forest Reserve

This time, I also visited Kollur, Subramanya, and Murudeshwara. Among them, I fell deeply in love with Kollur. The Mookambika Temple, dedicated to the Goddess who manifests as Saraswati, Lakshmi, and Parvati at different times of the day, stands at the foothills of Kodachadri beside the Souparnika River.

Kollur Mookambika Temple

The legend of Adi Shankaracharya and the Devi’s anklets has always fascinated me - the promise that She would follow him to Kerala, but would stop the moment he turned back. When he did, the Goddess chose to stay, and that place became Kollur.

Dharmasthala

From there, we visited Udupi, a bustling temple town, and then Dharmasthala, home to the powerful Manjunatha Swamy. The journey ended at Kukke Subramanya, where the temple sits in the shadow of the majestic Kumara Parvatha.

All these towns lie just a few hours apart, yet each holds its own soul. Together, they form a sacred corridor through the Western Ghats — lush, alive, and luminous.

Two decades later, much has changed in my life. But my love for Sanatana Dharma has only deepened. The philosophy of Advaita resonates within me stronger than ever. I’ve traveled across the world, yet when I seek inspiration or inner peace, I close my eyes, and my mind returns to the sanctums of Sringeri and Kollur. The whispering rivers, the smell of wet earth, the dense green forests of the Ghats — they remind me that serenity need not be sought abroad. It has always been here, in the heart of Karnataka, where the divine meets the green.