Dear Penguin,
Years ago, your cousin, then just a curious 6-year-old, asked me a question that lingered long after our conversation ended.
“Why should I visit Sambalpur? What’s there, apart from relatives?”
At that time, I fumbled for an answer. I could have listed the places…Hirakud Dam, Samaleswari Temple, the ghats along the Mahanadi. But none of that felt quite right. His question poked at something deeper, what was Sambalpur to me, really?
Over time, I’ve come to understand that the most powerful reasons we visit places are not always the ones we find in tourist brochures. They’re the kind that live in quiet corners of memory and meaning. One such place for me is Gopalji Matha.
Tucked in a then relatively unremarkable lane (now The SAMALEI (Samaleswari Temple Area Management and Local Economic Initiative) project has brought a significant makeover) of Kamil Bazar. Situated near the banks of the Mahanadi, Gopalji Matha isn’t grand in the usual sense. There are no towering monumental gateways or sprawling complexes. Yet the moment you step inside its premises, something shifts. The air grows still, the bustle of the bazar fades, and all you’re left with is a sense of timelessness. It’s as if the space itself is gently asking you to pause.
What drew me there initially was simple curiosity. I’d heard whispers about Radha Pada Darshan and the energy of the place. But what brought me back, again and again, was how deeply the matha felt.
It wasn’t about what you saw, it was about what you experienced.
The sanctum, the quiet rituals, the flicker of lamps in the evening… each part seemed to echo centuries of faith.
Gopalji Matha traces its origins back to Bansi Gopal, the prince who turned saint. He was the first Mahanta of the matha, and legend has it that he built not one but two temples within the compound. One dedicated to Lord Gopalji (a form of Krishna) and another to Jagannath. The matha itself follows the Khakhara architectural style. Curved rooflines and a structure more horizontal than vertical, which lends a sense of groundedness. It might lack the elaborate sculptures you see in other temples, but somehow, its simplicity has always felt like a deliberate choice. Like it’s inviting you inward, not just physically, but spiritually.
For years, Gopalji Matha was part of a spiritual pathway. People would walk from here toward Samalei Gudi, following a trail that linked various sacred spots in Sambalpur. The matha wasn’t just a stop, it was a point for introspection.
Even now, when I sit on its steps, where the first light of morning enters. It feels like the city around it has paused to breathe.
One of my favorite stories associated with this place is of a secret tunnel that, they say, once connected Budharaja Hill to the Raja Bakhri through Gopalji Matha. There’s no solid proof of it (that am aware of), but I grew up hearing tales of freedom fighter Veer Surendra Sai using this passage to move unnoticed, planning revolts, staying one step ahead of the British. As a child, this story fascinated me endlessly. I’d stand near the temple walls and imagine cloaked figures sneaking through underground passages, plotting for freedom. The matha turned into a portal between past and present, imagination and history.
There’s also something deeply feminine about this place, though it’s not a Shakti Peetha. Perhaps it’s because the devotion to Radha, the presence of Radha Pada (symbolizing her feet), and the nurturing calmness of the space remind me of the quiet strength of women. The women in our family, my Maa and aunt, visited the matha not just to pray, but to exhale. In their footsteps, I, too, have found solace.
I hope someday you visit this matha, not as a tourist checking off spots, but as someone seeking a moment of stillness.
I want you to experience that silence, the stories wrapped in every corner, the wind off the river brushing against the trees within the compound. Even if the historical facts blur, and the legends remain unverified, what matters is the way it makes you feel.
Sambalpur, like all places we truly belong to, doesn’t shout its wonders. It reveals them slowly. Gopalji Matha is one such wonder. Quiet, enduring, and waiting.
And maybe that’s the answer I didn’t have for your cousin back then. We visit places like Sambalpur not just to meet relatives, but to meet parts of ourselves we didn’t know we were missing.
With love,
Maa
