Temple of the monkey

“We are welcome you to our tempal,” read a charming, hand-painted sign on a whitewashed wall.

That was my introduction to the monkey temple, located at the top of a mountain in Hampi, India. It had taken several hundred stairs to get there, a grueling hike under a suffocating sun. The air was so humid, it felt like a hot washcloth was stuffed down into my throat. I complained until I was humbled by the sight of temple workers, who were making the very same climb with bags of cement on their backs.

The monkey temple is the birthplace of Lord Hamuman, someone I’ve never heard of before and haven’t bothered to look up. But this dude is apparently quite powerful.

I don’t know if the temple was named for the monkeys, which are plentiful in the area, or if the monkeys came to the area for the temple. Either way, they exist in harmony.

I felt awkward about entering someone else’s house of worship — I’m not Hindu, and I didn’t want to offend anyone — and then I was invited inside the building by this priest. He was gracious and kind.

Inside, two men sat on the floor of a small room that was roped off from visitors. They played a combination of tambourines, bells and miniature coconut shells. As the robust music swelled, the men chanted something lulling and otherworldly. In another room, a handful of people said prayers and, in return, received a swipe of red paint on their foreheads.

I started to leave, but the priest encouraged me to stay. He passed around glasses of chai. The music stirred something inside me that I never knew existed, and I felt my heart explode with gratitude. I sat in lotus position under a fan and melted into the floor.

Every piece of it was so right: The curling incense smoke, the rhythmic bells, the heaving chants, the monkeys chattering outside the door, the view from the mountain top, the sweat rolling down my back and the fan cooling me down again.

With billions of people, congested cities and choking pollution, India was the last place where I expected to find peace. And yet, there it was, waiting for me.