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A Ganesh Nadar

A virgin.

That's the literal translation of Kanyakumari.

According to the legends, the beautiful princess, Kanya Devi, an avatar of Parvati, was to wed Shiva, the supreme destroyer. But he did not turn up at the auspicious time and the wedding never took place. Ever.

The rice and cereals meant for the marriage remained uncooked. Even today, you can buy stones there that look exactly like rice and cereals. Local folklore says they are the leftovers of the legendary marriage that never took place. As for the beautiful princess Kanyakumari, she became a virgin goddess, blessing pilgrims and tourists alike.

The British conquerers, of course, on their arrival, bestowed the dry title of Cape Comorin on this rocky promontory of land. They just could not pronounce local names -- however lovely they were.

Kanyakumari is the southernmost tip of mainland India. The actual land's end. Just beyond the tip of the land lies a huge rock on which is built the Vivekananda Memorial. Vivekananda used to sit here and meditate everyday. The wisdom which was born on this rock flowed out in prose in Chicago. And he was named as the patron saint of India.

When you stand on this rock and face the east, the waves of the Bay of Bengal lap your feet. When you look at the west, the Arabian sea whispers to you. When you turn to the south, the Indian Ocean roars towards you. Look up north and you will see a mighty nation, whose feet are washed by three oceans.

The road to Kanyakumari is broad, airy and tree-lined. Since it is a national highway, it is well-kept. A few miles before Kanyakumari, I saw a small mountain on the left. At the base of the mountain was a normal village. But that didn't catch my attention.

What caught my attention was a house, perched high on the mountain on a sheer cliff.

Photographs by A Ganesh Nadar

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