Meeting the Father of Ernakulam!

I tried hard for a sane and apt title, trust me, I did.

On 31st May, which happened to be a Sunday, Visakh and I decided to uphold our religious responsibilities and visit Ernakulathappan Temple in, well, ahm, Ernakulam. Because where else would Ernakulathappan Temple be?

This temple was first recommended to me years ago by my very good friend Manju. She used to sing during temple concerts there and always spoke about the place with a certain fondness. Fast forward more than seven years, and I still visit whenever I can. Now, I have a slightly unusual habit. Before visiting temples, I look them up on Google. Not for directions. For reviews. The same way people read reviews before watching a movie, I read reviews before visiting temples. Somewhere in those reviews, I usually discover interesting stories about why the temple was built, who the deity is, and what makes the place special.

The story of Ernakulathappan Temple was quite fascinating. Legend says that the Shiva idol worshipped here was originally created by Arjuna, the 3rd Pandava, while observing severe penance for Lord Shiva. The idol was then forgotten by everyone. Years later, a cursed half-snake half-boy found this and tried to worship the lingam. Soon, Shiva was super impressed and redeemed him from the curse, which led to another lingam near the first one. Eventually, this temple garnered worshippers from near and far and earned Lord Shiva the affectionate title "Ernakulathappan" , the Lord of Ernakulam.

Armed with this newly acquired Google knowledge, we reached the temple and parked our scooty at the South Nada. As soon as we entered, we noticed something unusual. A huge fair was happening right next to the temple grounds. Large banners announcing ‘Last Day 31.05.2026' were displayed everywhere. Visakh and I exchanged the same look. "Oh wow." "Why not?" The plan immediately expanded. First temple. Then fair. A perfectttttt Sunday combination.

We entered the temple and offered a small vazhipadu in our names. The atmosphere inside was calm despite the crowd outside. Standing before Lord Shiva, I felt the same sense of peace I usually experience there. The deity looked powerful and serene at the same time. After praying, we began the pradakshinam around the sanctum. Interestingly, when it comes to Shiva temples, devotees traditionally do not complete a full circle around the sanctum. I was once told that this is because Ganga Devi is believed to flow through one side, and therefore, that portion is not crossed. I don’t know the complete history behind it, but like every IT engineer who doesn’t question much about what is out of scope, I followed instructions faithfully. If you know it, do give a shout!

On our way around, we stopped before His son, Lord Ganesha, and offered prayers. A little further stood Kirathamurthy. I stared at the idol for a few seconds, trying desperately to remember who exactly Kirathamurthy was and where I had read about him. Unfortunately, my memory and general knowledge chose not to co-operate. Outside the nalambalam stood His elder son, Lord Ayyappa, and nearby were His best aides, the Nagas. We offered prayers there as well and slowly made our way towards the exit.

Just as we were about to leave, powerful chants floated across from the Hanuman temple near the entrance. Naturally, we followed the sound and ended up offering one more prayer before finally stepping out.

Or so we thought.

Because the fair was waiting.

The moment we entered, both of us instantly transformed into five-year-olds. For ₹150, two adults could enter together since it was the final day. We bought a ticket and walked in.

The first things to welcome us were giant decorative insects and flowers. Bees, honey bees, praying mantises, grasshoppers, and colourful floral displays stood all around us like characters from an oversized children’s storybook.

Then came heart-shaped arches. And beyond them stood a giant waterfall.

It was beautiful. You could stand several metres away and still feel water as though you were standing beneath it. Nearby was another waterfall illuminated with rainbow-coloured lights. The entire thing glowed beautifully against the evening sky.

The child in me immediately stepped into the water. The adult in me immediately regretted how cold it was. Brrr…Meanwhile, Visakh had entered full photographer mode and had been taking pictures continuously ever since the giant bee section.

Everywhere we looked were families enjoying themselves. Tiny toddlers running around excitedly. School children refusing to come out from lying down in the water. Parents looking exhausted from giving kids some time to play with water, and then regretting the decision as the kids now won’tcome back. Grandparents looking even more exhausted at the 100% ‘tantrum-prone products’ their kids created.

And couples like us simply wandering around without any particular destination. We bought a tub of popcorn and sat for a while facing the rainbow waterfall. Sometimes, doing absolutely nothing while looking at pretty lights is enough entertainment.

The next section contained stalls selling everything imaginable , furniture, kitchen appliances, household items, food stalls, accessories, and gadgets. But the largest crowd seemed to be gathered around the VR section. Watching people experience VR is often more entertaining than experiencing VR itself. The participants were surviving a deadly roller coaster involving dragons, explosions, and near-death experiences. To everyone else watching, they simply looked terrified while standing in one place wearing a VR headset.

We then had something advertised as "Mumbai Style Pav Bhaji." As someone who spent her childhood in Mumbai, I can confidently say that Mumbai and this Pav Bhaji had only a remote or non-existential distant relationship. But hunger makes peace treaties possible, so we ate it anyway.

Soon we reached the games section. Giant wheels. Swinging boats. Rides designed specifically to test how much you trust engineering. We stood there watching for a few minutes, both of us pretending to consider taking a ride while secretly hoping the other person wouldn’t suggest it.

Thankfully, fate intervened.

A strong aroma of freshly roasted peanuts drifted through the air and immediately captured our attention. Without much discussion, we bought a packet and slowly started walking back.

Honestly, that’s how most good Sundays should end. You leave home planning for a temple visit and return after praying, walking through waterfalls, judging pav bhaji, laughing at VR players, and carrying roasted peanuts. Somewhere in between, you’ve accidentally created a memory.