Ever since I can remember, going to a temple has been a chore I'd rather avoid. The noise, the crowd - how do people find their own sandals is beyond me, let alone inner peace. I leave my parents to bribe God, but sometimes, like yesterday, I'm ambushed, glared at because I do not have anything else to do and dragged.

I took my iPod along and two books. Figured if I were out, might as well get a vacation out of it. Of course, you'd laugh when you'd hear it was in the heart of Tamilnadu where despite it being nearly September, it's still hot as hell. After all, Chennai might not be as hot as some of the other interior places in Tamilnadu, but it's still no walk in a breezy park. I sweat it out just to see how much of it I can bear without reaching a snapping point.

An awful 8 hours of back-breaking car-ride later we reached Kumbakonam, the fabled town where Vishnu, as a 60 year old rishi, finds his soul mate's (Goddess Lakshmi) reincarnated form in a 6 year old girl and asks her hand in marriage. When the father objects quoting that she doesn't even know how to cook, let alone be responsible in a marriage, Vishnu asks the little girl to cook, which she does. But she forgets the key ingredient - salt. He eats it anyway and praises it sky high, asking for her hand in marriage again. The father agrees and the two soul mates are united in their reincarnated forms.

The story behind this temple has an obvious conclusion - none of the holy offering made here has any salt. This obviousness should have occurred to me when I picked up a particularly delicious looking lentil-rice crisps to bite into, but by then I was already chewing something that tasted like cud.

The highlight of the visit (yes, there really is one) was the undaunted priest who saw the bored expression on my face (and the obvious yawn) and continued regaling us with the stories of Vishnu and Shiva in Chandrashekharpur.

I wondered then what made him have faith, this young man who worked in a bank, not unknown to the hallows of an unforgiving modern world. It was then his father came to us, a loud man with louder opinions, who had singlehandedly built Chandrashekharpur to its current state: a town that commands respect not only because of the temple his family has tended to, but also because of numerous shops, banks and clinics they'd opened. They did not migrate to cities in search of a "better living", they chose to stay with their roots, but they also made it self-sufficient and provided for. I respected this man with the booming voice and a devout son.

I left with a feeling of respect - for Vishnu, Lakshmi, Shiva, Brahma and several others who, before alighting to their 'God' status, were strong individuals, helping build cities from scratch, providing for people and most of all, being a voice of reason and justice that others could depend on.

The stories of great men and women, I could listen to - and it is just what I did.