The rainbow-colored staircase rises like a cascade into the limestone cliffs. Right now they feel endless with tourists inching upward, packing the 272 steps in the heat. I grip the stone rail, wedged between smartphone-wielding visitors and families moving in slow clusters. My breath is short from the climb and from the press of bodies around me. It’s barely midmorning on a weekday, yet the crowd here at the Batu Caves is already a relentless tide.
My legs protest. I have been walking a lot the past few days and had only managed a few hours of sleep (blame the Penang-induced insomnia and the red eye flight). But with just ten hours to wring meaning from a layover in Kuala Lumpur, I push on.
A few weeks earlier, as I was mapping out my trip to Penang, I noticed the ten-hour layover in Kuala Lumpur. My first instinct, of course, was to dip back into the city again and revisit some sites. I’d already wandered KL twice before, though both visits were short. One of them was in fact another layover that stretched into a hurried day: Chinatown, Merdeka Square, the Petronas Towers, then an afternoon in a Kinokuniya bookstore. This time, I wanted something beyond the city’s urban trappings, somewhere I haven’t been to before, like Penang. Batu Caves, in neighboring Selangor, called out as the answer.
Now, here I am. After an express train from the airport to KL Sentral, then a Komuter ride northward, I’ve arrived at the foot of the famous stairs. Without any hesitation, I begin the climb immediately and let myself be swept into the river of pilgrims and tourists alike.
I’m now realizing how the steps are unforgiving. Painted in vivid colors, they look cheerful from below, but halfway up they feel like a test of will. My legs, still grumbling from lack of sleep, continue to chide me with every step. I slow down, letting the current of tourists wash past me. A family of macaques—father, mother, and child—sits perched on a railing, grooming each other. Tourists stop to take pictures, laughing nervously whenever the monkeys glance back, sharp-eyed and mischievous.
Above us, the limestone cliffs rise like a fortress, and at the base below, the immense gold-painted statue of Lord Muruga (42.7 meters of gleaming devotion) guards the entrance. It was unveiled during Thaipusam in 2016, a festival where devotees throng here in the tens of thousands. I keep my eyes fixed on the cavern above, like a moth being lured to the flame.
Finally, I reach the top. The crowd filters into the cavernous space, with light spilling in through openings in the rock. This is the famed Temple Cave, also called the Cathedral Cave for its sheer size. Inside, shrines to Lord Muruga and his consorts stand against the limestone walls, their colors vivid against the gray stone. The air is cooler here, but heavy with the smell of incense. Even as tourists pose for photos and whiz by in a blur, the space itself insists on respect, with the mountain having been a sanctuary far longer than any temple built within it.
Much to the annoyance of my thighs, I climb deeper still, where more steps lead to an upper chamber housing the temple of Sri Valli Deivanai, Muruga’s wife. The journey upward feels like a continuation of the pilgrimage: the higher I go, the more intimate the atmosphere becomes. Muruga, son of Shiva and the Hindu god of war, is revered across Tamil communities, and the devotion etched into these shrines makes the mythology come alive. Surrounded by limestone walls carved by time, it’s impossible not to feel a drape of spirituality settle over me, even amid the presence of tourists who, like me, have come from every corner of the world to witness this place.
I go down about half an hour later. I linger for about two more hours in the complex below, though most of it is spent sitting under a patch of shade, watching the flow of people who never seem to stop coming. By noon, the heat grows heavier. I make my way back to the Komuter platform, riding southward to KL Sentral where I’ll have lunch before riding the train back to the airport.
The Batu Caves have given me a glimpse into a living faith that has endured for generations. And for the weary traveler with little more than a layover to spare, the climb is both penance and reward.
Batu Caves Travel Basics
Timing
- Batu Caves is open daily from early morning until late evening, but the best time to visit is in the early morning before the heat builds and the crowds swell.
- Weekends and Thaipusam (usually late January or early February) draw massive crowds, so if your schedule is flexible, aim for a weekday.
Access
- From KL Sentral, ride the KTM Komuter (Batu Caves–Pulau Sebang Line), which takes about 30 minutes more and drops you right at the entrance. Fare costs MYR 2. However, note that payment is cashless only: you’ll need a debit/credit card or a mobile payment app to buy tickets.
Admission
- The Temple Cave, which is the main cave at the top of the rainbow stairs, is free to enter.
- The Sri Ramayana Cave, which is to the left of the Temple Cave’s staircase, costs about MYR 5.
Food
- At the base of Batu Caves are South Indian vegetarian restaurants and small food stalls, selling banana leaf meals, dosas, and teh tarik (pulled tea). There are also snack vendors selling coconuts, bottled drinks, and quick bites (such as pani puri) near the entrance. They’re handy if you’re short on time.
Responsible Travel
- Dress modestly, as Batu Caves is an active Hindu shrine (cover knees and shoulders; sarongs are available for rent at the entrance).
- Bring water and a hat, as the climb can be hot and exposed.
The Tourist Gaze 