To reach the temple, some cram into the buses that, for a fare of forty-four rupees, take pilgrims to the top of the hill. But everyone knows that a true pilgrim climbs the hill on foot. Smita has not come this far to take the easy path now. She removes her sandals, and Lalita’s too, in accordance with tradition. Many are doing the same, removing their shoes as a sign of humility before climbing the steps that lead to the sanctuary gates.

Three thousand six hundred steps, about fifteen kilometres, three hours of effort! says a fruit seller sitting on the side of the path. Smita is worried about Lalita. The little girl is tired, they have barely slept on the uncomfortable, overcrowded train. But there is no turning back now. They will go at their own pace, if it takes them all day. Vishnu is watching over them, he has brought them here, they cannot fail him, now that they are so close. Smita spends a few rupees on some coconut, which Lalita devours hungrily. She keeps a whole nut to break on the first step as an offering to the god – as is the custom. Some light small candles which they place on each step, others anoint the steps with bright ochre and purple pigment mixed with water. The most pious, determined pilgrims climb on their knees. Smita sees an entire family advancing slowly in this way, wincing with pain at each step climbed. Such self-denial, she thinks. She envies and admires them.

A quarter of the way up, Lalita is showing signs of fatigue. They stop to drink and catch their breath. After an hour of walking, the little girl can take no more. Smita hoists her daughter’s tiny body onto her back for the rest of the climb. She is small and thin herself, and close to exhaustion, but she is determined to achieve her aim. She focuses her mind on the image of the beloved god, before whom she will soon be standing. Vishnu has given her extraordinary strength today, it seems, in order that she, Smita, might get to the top and prostrate herself before him.