High in the Kumaon hills, now not a ways from Dwarahat in Almora, sits the Dunagiri Temple (दूनागिरी मंदिर). It doesn’t come at you in a hurry. You note the slope first, the woodland next, after which the lengthy climb. By the time you reach the courtyard, you're already quieter, like the mountain has been slowly asking you to depart the noise behind.
There are तीन सौ पैंसठ सीढ़ियाँ, one for every day of the year. Each step feels like a small offering. Along the way, bells hang, tied by those who came before you. The sound drifts in the air, never quite fading, never fully gone.
The Stories People Carry Here
Ask the locals and you’ll hear many. This is one of the most sacred शक्ति पीठ of Kumaon, often called the Vaishno Shaktipeeth. They say that when हनुमानजी carried the Sanjeevani mountain to Lanka, a piece slipped and stayed here. That piece became Dunagiri, a mountain that still holds healing power.
The Pandavas, too, are tied to this place. During exile, they are believed to have stayed on this very slope. Guru Dronacharya is said to have meditated here, shaping his tapasya in the quiet of these woods. You don’t need proof. The stories settle into the stones, into the silence of the pines.
Inside the sanctum, there is no idol carved by human hands. Worship is for the natural सिद्ध पिंड, sacred stones that are taken as the form of Maa herself. An अखंड ज्योति, a flame that never dies, burns beside them. The room is small and dark. The moment you bow your head, it feels heavier with centuries of prayers whispered here.
The Climb and the Silence
The steps are steady and tiring. After the first stretch, you pause. The forest presses in, tall trees, bird calls, the smell of leaves. Then you climb again. Bells ring above, carried by the wind. It doesn’t just test your body, it strips away distraction. By the time you arrive, your breathing has slowed, and your mind is almost emptied.
The courtyard is plain. From here, the view stretches valleys folding into each other, ridges rolling away, peaks far in the distance. The temple doesn’t need to be big. The mountain itself feels like part of the shrine.
A Different Kind of Devotion
In Dunagiri, offerings stay simple. You don’t smash coconuts here. A flower, a thread, a few drops of water are enough. Maa doesn’t ask for display, only sincerity. That simplicity makes the place feel raw, almost untouched by the show of larger shrines.
When the Goddess is Celebrated
During चैत्र नवरात्रि and आश्विन नवरात्रि, the entirety adjustments. Pilgrims fill the steps, their voices rising in bhajans. Women in vibrant saris carry plates of plant life. Priests chant louder, bells ring louder, and the courtyard glows with lamps. For those days, the silent mountain becomes a festival floor. Then, while it ends, the quiet returns as if the wooded area becomes best suited to lend its area.
What You Remember Most
- Some things live with you longer than the climb or the myths. For me, it changed into.
- The faint echo of bells lingered in the air long after they stopped.
- The scent of pine mixed with burning धूप.
- The regular flicker of the eternal flame within the dark sanctum.
- A lady is tying a purple thread, her lips moving fast with private phrases.
- The sudden quiet when all chanting ended and only the wind remained.
- These fragments return later, when you think of Dunagiri, more than dates or facts ever could.
Faith in Small Gestures
On the steps, I met a young man tying a thread. He said softly, “बस माँ तक मेरी बात पहुँच जाए, यही चाहता हूँ।” He didn’t explain what the wish was. The thread was enough.
An old woman climbed slowly, resting often. She told me she was praying for her grandson’s health. That was all she wanted. Her tired smile said the climb itself was part of the prayer.
This is what keeps Dunagiri alive. Not grand stories alone, but these small, ordinary acts of faith.
