Chotila: 635 Steps to Chamunda Mata

Anyone who has driven between Ahmedabad and Rajkot has passed Chotila. It is impossible to miss: a steep isolated hill rising several hundred feet straight out of flat Saurashtra farmland, roughly halfway along the highway, with a small white temple visible on the summit and a line of people on the steps at almost any daylight hour. Most drivers note it and keep going. It takes about forty minutes to climb, and it is one of the better forty-minute investments in Gujarat.

At the top is the temple of Chamunda Mata, a form of the goddess and the kuldevi — family deity — of a great many Gujarati families, which is why the steps are never empty. It is a working pilgrimage site rather than a monument, the view from the summit is the best on this stretch of road, and it has one unusual rule: nobody stays on the hill overnight. At dusk the temple closes and everybody comes down.

The climb

The ascent is a stepped path of something over six hundred steps rising a few hundred feet from the base to the summit, and it is steep enough to be real exercise without being difficult. Most reasonably fit people manage it in twenty-five to forty minutes; pilgrims of all ages do it constantly, many barefoot, and there are rest points, water and stalls on the way up. For those who cannot walk, doli-bearers carry passengers in a slung chair for a negotiated fee.

It is entirely exposed. There is no shade of any consequence on the hill, and in anything other than the cool months or the early morning the climb in direct sun is genuinely punishing — this is flat, hot Saurashtra and the rock holds heat. Early morning is the right answer, both for temperature and because the light across the plain at that hour is superb. Late afternoon works too, with the added advantage of the sunset from the top.

At the summit is a compact temple complex with the main shrine to Chamunda, subsidiary shrines, a bell, and platforms with three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views over the plain — cultivated land in every direction, the highway threading through it, and other isolated hills in the distance. On a clear winter morning it is a genuinely fine view, and it explains why a hill like this became sacred: it is the only thing for many kilometres that lifts you above the ground.

A hill on the Ahmedabad–Rajkot highway, and a temple that empties completely every night.

The rule about the night

Chotila shares an unusual practice with Palitana, a couple of hours to the south-east: nobody remains on the hill after dark. The temple closes around dusk, the priests and stall-holders descend, and the summit is left empty until morning. The reasons given are traditional and religious rather than practical, and the rule is observed strictly.

At dusk everybody comes down. The temple is left alone on the hill until morning, every night

For a visitor this has one practical consequence: you must time your climb so you are off the hill before dark. In winter, when it gets dark early, that means starting the descent in good time from a late-afternoon climb — the steps in fading light with a crowd coming down are not somewhere to be hurrying. Check locally what time the temple closes in the season you visit, because it shifts.

It also gives the place a particular character. This is not a monument that is closed for the night for security; it is a shrine that is deliberately left to itself. Standing at the top as the last of the light goes and people start moving down the steps, with the plain going blue below, is the best moment Chotila offers.

A working shrine, and how to behave in it

Chamunda is the kuldevi of numerous Gujarati families and communities, which means that for a very large proportion of the people on those steps this is a family obligation rather than an outing — a visit made after a wedding, a birth, a recovery, a business success, or as a periodic duty. Navratri in autumn is the peak, when the crowds are enormous, and weekends and festival dates are always busy.

The courtesies are the usual ones and they matter more at a busy, genuinely devotional site than at an empty ruin: shoes off in the temple, modest dress, no photography inside the sanctum, no cutting the queue, and awareness that you are moving through other people's ritual. The stalls at the base and on the way up sell prasad, coconuts and religious items, and buying something is a normal part of the visit. If you climb in the pre-dawn dark, take a torch — the steps are lit unevenly.

Practicalities

Chotila is on the national highway between Ahmedabad and Rajkot, roughly 180 km from Ahmedabad and about 60 km from Rajkot, which makes it one of the most conveniently placed sites in Gujarat — essentially every bus on that route stops there or nearby, and it is a natural leg-stretch on any Saurashtra drive. There is parking at the base and a cluster of dhabas and stalls, and the food at the highway stops here has a decent local reputation.

October to March is the comfortable season and early morning is the best hour year-round. Accommodation at Chotila itself is basic; Rajkot, an hour away, has the full range of city hotels, and Ahmedabad is three hours off. Combine it with Wankaner and Morbi to the north-west, Gondal and Rajkot to the south-west, Dhrangadhra and the Little Rann to the north-east, or the Tarnetar fair at Than if your dates coincide.

Why isolated hills become sacred

Chotila is one of a series of abrupt isolated hills that punctuate the flat country of Saurashtra and Gujarat, and a striking proportion of them carry temples on top. Pavagadh has Kalika Mata; Girnar carries a mountain of Jain and Hindu shrines; Chotila has Chamunda; Gabbar above Ambaji has the older seat of the goddess; Shatrunjaya at Palitana holds nine hundred temples. The pattern is not coincidental.

The geology comes first: these are resistant plugs and outcrops left standing while softer surrounding rock eroded away, which is why they rise so suddenly. What follows is human. In flat country, a hill is the only place that is visibly different — cooler, windier, visible from a great distance, and requiring effort to reach. All of those qualities recommend it for a shrine, and the effort in particular becomes part of the observance. Climbing six hundred steps in the dark alongside people doing it as a family duty is a fairly direct demonstration of why the geography and the religion ended up attached to each other.

If you go

• Climb early in the morning — the hill is completely without shade and the light over the plain is best at dawn.
• Allow forty minutes up and twenty-five down, plus time at the summit; over six hundred steps, steep but not difficult.
• Check the temple's closing time locally and be off the hill before dark; nobody is permitted to stay overnight.
• Respect it as a working shrine — this is a family obligation for a great many of the people on the steps.
• Break the Ahmedabad–Rajkot drive here rather than making a special trip; it is directly on the highway.

Chotila is the best possible use of a break on a long Saurashtra drive: six hundred-odd steps up an isolated hill that is the only high ground for many kilometres, a shrine to a goddess who is the family deity of a great many Gujarati households, a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view over the plain, and a rule that empties the summit of every human being at dusk. Climb it at dawn, be down before dark, and eat at the highway stalls afterwards.