Author: shivam

  • Chapter 4 – Undying yearning to imitate the Ultimate

    The whispers of venkittu creates  a  whirlpool in my mind . I retire to a solitary corner in the long corridor of the temple, and wonder whether it is the same classmate whom I knew intimately, sitting in the last bench of the class, subdued and suffocated by the solid stone walls of superstitious prejudices?  ‘Sex is a sin’, I have heard from the seniors in my society. There are several Sanskrit verses and old stories to support that statement, mostly from those who have rejected sex or sex has rejected them . ‘Sex is a bliss’, is a popular version.  But no one has told me so far that sex is divine. In silent amazement when I heard that statement made in all sincerity by a friend whose marriage life was a failure and who is now under the vow of celibacy and leading a team of celibates, I begin pondering over it.

    With a perturbed mind and peering eyes, I go around the corridors looking for similar erotic sculptures on the pillars and I  see a few of them scattered among the carvings depicting  gods in their glory, damsels in their beauty, saints in their sanctity, men, animals and birds  in their natural  elegancy. There was another woman in a similar posture but with a lion’s head and a third one along with a dog-like animal standing in between her legs, looking up eagerly.  A  statue of a man-woman pair balancing their body on the hands is also there, but all such so called ‘obscene’ carvings form only a negligent percentage of the total.

    I have seen and enjoyed, in India and abroad, life like nude statues and paintings in museums and other places including places of worship. More than two thousand years ago, Greece and Italy popularized them and great sculptors and painters have exhibited their skill and expressed their emotion through their unparallel art works. “The kiss”, one of the most seductive pieces of Auguste Rodin, which translates in stone, the passion of a couple in union, which no other art form can depict so effectively. “The Venus de Milo”, the armless statue by an unknown sculptor , presumably belonging to second century BC , is on the top list of popular sculptors. The male nude statues of Michelangelo, striking in their expressive force and exhibiting the extraordinary knowledge anatomical science of the sculptor are breath taking. I was also fortunate to see his unforgettable paintings on the walls and the ceilings of the famous Sistine Chapel in Vatican. His statue of ‘David’ glorifies the human form, the master piece of the Master sculptor.

    Human emotions & character are depicted with great understanding & skill in the mural paintings of .Ajantha and Ellora caves  and the temples of Khajuraho built in the tenth century contain stunningly explicit sexual sculptures.

    In attempting to reproduce the most valuable gift of God as it was handed over to us, a painter or sculptor, enjoys immense happiness and try to make it as perfect as possible though he is aware of his limitation that he can never give it life. With regard to other creatures of the God, birds or animals, he can imitate them as they were born and therefore his artistic yearning for giving shape to a ‘symbol.’ close- to -original” takes wings in the form of  nude human figures.

    But, why are they in a place of worship?

    BETWEEN US


    If our ancestors, in all their wisdom, chose to exhibit  some nude women figures at the entry and exit gates of the temple, there should be a purpose for that.
    I am only attempting to know what it could be. Hope that you will not call me crazy.
    Love and regards,
    Siva

  • Chapter 3 – Sex is divine, Sivaswamy!

    It may be unnecessary and even unethical to probe into another man’s ( more so into another woman’s) personal life, but there is a pleasure in doing that which I enjoy, as I enjoy all good things in life.  It is therefore only natural that I became restless when my friend did say nothing about him, though we were meeting after decades. “ You are yet to tell me your story” I prompt him.

    After collecting another one rupee per head as punishment dakshina, the  guruswamy, sends his team again to the  corridor near the flag post near the  eastern gate to repeat the chant. Noticing that I was observing his counting the coins, he asks, “you know where this money goes to?”
    ‘Into your wife’s wallet if she is intelligent  or into the Sabharimala hundi, if you are as innocent as you were as a college student” I do not want him to know that I doubt his integrity .
    ‘”No, to an orphanage” he clarifies.” Though my parents were outdated in their ideas and habits, they were kind enough to take care of my child. All the children discarded by their mother or father are not that lucky”.
    ‘Is this fellow divine or a fraud?” I ask myself again.
    My curiosity to know about him increases and I ask him .”Your child was discarded by your wife?. Did you marry that black capsicum who used to spurt every time you go near her, like dry chilly pieces thrown into a pot of boiling oil? ”
    “Unfortunately no” His eyes were moist . “It is OK, Venki, take it easy” I try to pacify him. “’If I shed tears for the girls who deserted me, there will be enough water here for Padmanabha and his entire celestial team to float”.
    This is Venkittu’s life story as he told me, in brief:
    Strangulated by the strictness of his ultra orthodox parents in observing customs and caste rules and crippled by the consequent isolation from the day to day world around, Venkittu , became  an introvert and sadist to some extent. An above-average student in the class, he failed in the degree exam twice (I failed just once and had an excuse for that), refused to make another attempt and left for Madras and married a girl of different caste working in the film industry.
    After helping him to earn a fortune, status, and a child, she left to help another man to provide similar support.
    When he returned home with the kid, his father screamed as expected, mother pretended to protest but wanted to keep the child with her. “Tholanju po- do as you like and get lost”- the old man told his wife , revealing his weakness albeit authoritatively, as all the husbands used to do in those days. His love for the son and grand child has overtaken his orthodoxy
    “No need Appa!” The son did not want to accept the obligation easily. “ You will spoil my child too with your over-dosage of Brahminical beverage .
    The old man, unable to understand how he had poisoned his son’s thoughts, acts and future by adhering to certain values inherited from his ancestors and ordained by the scriptures, now his conviction overtaking his affection, suggested politely but firmly, “Sarida, (it is OK with me). Get remarried or admit your child in an orphanage”
    But Venkittu, having tasted married life, was afraid of handing over the kid to another woman, nor wanted his son to be labeled as an orphan while he was alive. The little one was lucky to have the care and affection of his grand parents and Venkittu left for his place of working.
    The ayyappas are back after completing the assignment given by the guruswamy and he did not bother to ask them whether they felt the presence of God in their company. Instead, He asks  them  a question which shocked me.
    “Did any one notice the colourful, meaningful  mural inscription on the walls of the sanctum, while mounting the steps for the Darshan ?’’’
    “I didn’t, I didn’t” I volunteers to reply though I had seen the nude pictures and also knew that the question was not addressed to me.
    My friend repeats the question, this time specifically facing his team and all of them, without a single exception, reply that propelled by the anxiety to see the God, they saw nothing around them , not even live men and women leave away the murals of the four women with no  cloth on them .
    “That is a lie” I yelled, though I have no business to interfere
    “Yes, you are right” Venki said and turning to his followers, chided them, “ayyappas are expected to say nothing but truth”
    “Another one rupee per head?” I was anxious to know.
    “Not now” the guruswamy replies and takes his followers to the corridor on the north side, and pointing his finger at a pillar close to the entrance to the shrine asks,
    “Are you able to see that figure carved on the first pillar, next to the pathway, to your right?”
    No one can miss it .
    It is an erotic image of a young woman, with no clothes on, squatting on the floor with her legs wide opened, her long hands firmly pressed on the floor!
    ‘Atrocious! Unpardonable” I yelled pretending to close my eyes with my palms but viewing the natural beauty through the finger gaps ,
    ‘You, a revered guruswamy direct the other ayyappas to look at the image of a disrobed devil?”
    “Sivaswamy!” He looked at my eyes with a smile and wanted to say something but I stopped.
    ‘I am not a swamy”
    ‘You are.” He was calm and his reply had clarity.
    ‘All are swamis for an ayyappa, once he takes a vow and wear the sacred mala’
    ‘Me too?” I could hardly believe that I could be one.
    ‘’You,as well as that image which you are watching through the corner of your eyes”
    Before leaving , turning towards me, with a sincere smile on his face, Venkittu makes a simple statement which makes me speechless: “Sex is divine, Sivaswamy!”
    Between you and me
    I can understand your worry. I wanted to share the murmurs of the mild cold Onam- breeze, beyond the Valyar forests, with you and retire to my cocoon after penning a chapter or at the most two, but things are going out of control . Pray along with me to Sri.Ananthpadmanabhan not to make this story ‘anantham’ (endless) but make it ‘aanantha pradham- a divine experience . After all He is the ‘Jagadhanandha karaka- the source of absolute peace and utter happiness to the entire world”

  • Chapter 2 – Is he divine or a man of deceit ?

    Once again, I am before my Lord, Sri  Ananthapadmanabha,  Oh, what a majestic pose and what a royal look! I have stood like this several time before my Master, enjoying His grandeur  profile,  admiring the awesome ‘ananthsayanam’, the reclining posture on a multi-hooded mammoth snake, with the celestial consorts close by and surrounded by Devas and Rishies, saints and celestial luminaries . Every time I am rejuvenated, relaxed and long to wait in eternity in His royal court awaiting His orders
    I remember the words of my father in law, who took me for Padmanabha’s  blessings direct from the wedding hall along with his daughter who had just became my wife:
    “ When you worship Padmanabha remember that you are worshipping 10008 salagramams , bought with great religious fervor on elephants, from the banks of the river Gandhaki in Nepal. Those sacred stones are the base for the composition of the idol along with tons of gold. The admirable outside shape with a lustrous dark polished surface is generated with the help of an ayurvedic mix applied skillfully over the saligrama formulation strengthened  and complemented by sufficient quantity of gold. The medicinal mould called ‘ katu sarkara yogam’ was obviously an ingeniously conceived plan to avoid the prying eyes of the invaders who attacked the city and also to protect the idol from insects.  No ‘Abishekam’ is performed for the idol for which a separate golden idol is used.”
    The sanctum is intentionally illumined moderately with dazzling oil lamps and the impact created by avoiding powerful mechanical devices is immense. It creates an ethereal aura and sublime ambience suited for concentration on the object of worship and facilitate meditation
    The mammoth, eighteen feet long, majestic idol  aesthetically embellished with gold and stone has to be viewed through three doors .
    Why three doors? I ask myself?  Is it to indicate the God’s Perennial status- ‘Adi, madhyantha rahitham’ as Swathi Thirunal sings? Or to emphasize that He is the ‘bootha, bhavaya, bhavath prabhu’-Master of past, present and future as the grandeur of Kuru clan ,Beeshma proclaims?  Is it to clarify that He is approachable through all the three ‘gunas’ or characters,  “sathwik, rajo and thamas”-saintly, human and satanic?. Or could it be an indication of the presence of all the three Gods, Brahma, Vishnu and Siva inside the sanctum?
    Through the first gate, I see His head supported and hooded by the coiled mammoth serpent. The face is extremely attractive, with prominent nose, well chiseled ears, lovely long eyes and lavish hair lock and  forehead .The hands are long  with ornamented fingers, the right hanging down on the Sivalingam.
    Through the middle gate, I see the long stem of lotus originating from His Nabhi or naval projecting on its flower the four -headed Brahma, the Lord of creation. The dazzling golden idol of Mahavishnu,  is in the center, tastefully decorated with flowers and ornaments and two colourful ‘ona vals’ ornamental swords offered by the devotees specially on the occasion of onam festival. The divine consorts are remain close to their Lord
    Through the third gate, I see the lower portion of the body, the legs covered with colourful silk clothes and the feet and toes adorned by flower garlands, where Archana is performed. “Brahma kadikina padamu, Brhamamuda na nee padamu”- unknowingly flows the immortal song of Annamacharya from  my lips.
    The shining huge idol is a black beauty.  Every limb has its own prominence and attraction and the overhaul appeal is awesome.. In Guruvayoor, I am tempted to embrace the small idol of Unnikrishnan, whereas here, I would prefer to stand at a distance with closed palms and view with awe and respect the divine charm in a reclining posture, enjoy the sculptured melody and experience immeasurable mental peace and spiritual solace.
    While accepting the prasadam, ‘raktha chandanam’ or red sandalwood paste along with thulasi leaves, on a cut plantain leaf offered by the Nambudiri standing near the feet of the deity, I sing spontaneously, ‘Bhogeendra sayinam’ that immortal creation of Maharaja Swathy Thirunal. How lucky the royal composer cum singer was to sing his own krithy, the song penned by him, before his favorite deity!
    “Give a nano gram of your strength and swiftness, vigor and vitality !” I plead to the dazzling majestic  Narsimhamoorthy, the incarnation of man cum animal manifestation, symbolizing the true nature of humans ( and to some extend, animals too?), seated at the southern entrance to inner shrine of Sri. Padmanabaha. The great Sankaracharya could say that more beautifully, more precisely and more poetically.“Give me your hand, God! ‘Lakshmi Nrismha mama dehi karavalambham.”
    While coming out, comes across a familiar face with powerful eyes, attired in an unfamiliar style and followed by a big group of Ayyappa devotees. Despite his dark dress and dangling rosaries over the spacious tummy, I could locate my class mate. I  wanted to shout, ‘Adea Viddi Venkittu’ but control my temptation to address him as a fool as we used to do in the school, chiding his orthodox ways and over enthusiastic exhibition of caste symbols and other ‘appavithanam’, foolish behavior in the class, but control my temptation considering the sanctity of the place and his attire.
    “ Swamy saranam; follow me ayyappas”, he instructs others, “ Keep apart one rupee as guru dakshina, form groups of three and silently (!) do saranam vili ( chanting  God’s name). I will join you shortly”
    “You want me too join them and pay you the fees?” I ask him.
    “ No” . Holding my hands he leads me  to the small parapet wall bordering the ‘prakaram’(outer corridor)
    “Tell about you.” He asks for my life story, “from the day I absconded”. I brief him.
    His followers come and hand over the coins they had earmarked for the ‘guru swamy’ but complain that they could not form the group of three as they were short of one person.
    “What a pity!” The guruswamy expresses his disappointment and chide the followers. “ Why did you not take  Lord Ayyappa as the third partner? Despite following me to the holy shrine for many years, you have not attained the stage where you could feel the presence of the God at every step, along with you”.
    I was awestruck. Is he divine or a man of  deceit?

  • Chapter 1 – A visual delight

    AH,  what a memorable experience it was, being in Kerala during the Onam festival!
    The trip for enjoying the Onam feast with my mother-in-law and kathakali, music and other cultural shows ( without her ) was pre-planned but my landing in Thiruvanthapuram on the concluding  day of Maharudra yagnam in the Sreekanteswarm temple, opposite to her house, was providential. Chanting rudram and Chamakam along with the learned Nambudiries in the morning and Lalithsahasranamam during the Bagavathy seva in the evening was enjoyable for me and hope for the God too, as I know that He will overlook the incompatibility of my harsh tone with the musical modulations  of the group recitation. I also enjoyed the poornahuthi, the final part of the yagnam, where only ghee was poured into the leaping tongues of the fire god and not bundles of kancheepuram silk saris or basketsful of costly fruits. Sreekanteswaran would have appreciated this act as for the past eleven days, the priests were asking for all sort of things under the Sun, while repeatedly chanting ‘Chamkam’  and it makes no sense to burn large quantities of eatables and wearable in the belief of pleasing the Gods. The God  knows the value of food items. The Nambudiries also know that ; that is why they perform the ‘Utchapooja neivedyam’, mid-day offering, on a clean plantain leaf, just the required  quantity of eatables, rice , currys, pickles etc( eight items) and soon after the worship offer that to a Brahmin. Along with him all the devotees who are present in the temple are offered food and this goes on every day.
    I do not know how many of you have visited the Sreekanteswarm  temple. Dedicated to Lord Siva. This small temple ( compared to the vadakkunath temple in Trichur or Mahadeva temple in Vaikom) with a dominating golden flag staff and dedicated daily rituals attract numerable local devotees although many outsiders skip its unaware of its presence, after visiting the landmark  Padmanabha temple. Poojas are performed strictly as per the thanthrik style of Agmasastras  with utmost devotion and sincerity. When the women devotees, with moist eyes and palms on their chest, call Him, “ente Sreekanteswara!), how small I feel with all my chanting of mantras and what not!
    From there I go through the eastern gate, to the  Durga temple maintained by the Brhamana sammooham on which I have already published a write-up in this forum and then to the Mahaganapathy temple close by and sing my ‘ Arasum moodu Ganapathy mamapathy’ pattu or prayer song, loudly without worrying how  the curious men and women tolerated my verbal onslaught . I sang for solely for myself  and I am sure that Mahganapathy  too would have liked it, as He is the source for the evolution of the spiritual spring within me.
    About 100 meters away, is the  famous sri.Ananthapadmanabha swamy temple,one of the 108 divyasthal or holy place, for Vishnu, standing majestically with a 100 feet, seven tier gopuram, by the side of the pond named padma theertham (lotus spring). Unlike other temple towers in Tamilnadu  and  else where, the gopuram here is not unintentionally vandalized by applying paints of different shades but the massive structure, an architectural marvel full of aesthetically carved sculptures deserve better maintenance. How the west would have maintained such immovable and irreproducible structural assets, had those been on their land( and collected a huge sum as visiting fee!)!
    The ground floor under the gopuram (main entrance in the eastern side) is known as the ‘Nataka Sala’ where  Kathakali is staged in the night during the ten-day uthsavam (festival) conducted twice a year, during the Malayalam months of Meenam and Thulam. The corridor inside,  extends to the sanctum sanctorum, and in the center is the eight foot tall, gold covered flag shaft after which are the huge statues of Anjaneya and Garuda on either side facing the sanctum and then the statues of dwarpalkas, gate-keepers, large and equally attractive. To the left is a treasure house of granite pillars some producing musical notes  and all carrying fascinating carvings. There are four gates to the temple, the pathways paved with granite slabs leading to the long corridors, outer prakaram, with granite pillars with splendid sculptures carved on each of them. The space around is covered with snow white river sand, evenly spread and maintained neatly.

    I enter the gold-covered granite pillar-supported gracious mantapam, in front of the sanctum, where only the Maharaja of Travancore, who ruled the state as His dasa or servant, is allowed to prostrate.

    What a visual delight is this! Could there be another Onasdya, onam feast better than this?(including my mamiyar’s-mother in-law’s?)

  • Mayi sarvamidam



    .“Mayi sarvamidaM protaM suutre maNigaNaa iva:

    “You often deviate from the main story” comments a reader, referring to the last paragraph of the previous chapter. I admit that I do. The problem with me is that I write as thoughts come to my mind; I don’t arrange them  in an alphabetical order, before writing. It has an advantage: the flow will be incessant. The disadvantage is that the main story gets distorted. Anyway, I shall try to keep an index file in my head and place things in order; till then kindly bear with my deviation.
    For the annual day program in our college, Sri Vijayan master, our Malayalam professor, wanted to stage a kathakali.  He had learned the dance during his young days. He was looking for an actor for the roll of Kuchelan.  There were no takers for the roll of the poor Brahmin. None wanted even to imitate the deprived even on a stage and therefore, he asked me to take up that roll.
    “But sir, I haven’t learned ‘kathakali’” I said, scratching the back of my head.
    “That doesn’t matter,” Master assured. There will be no action for you and your very presence on the stage will reveal the intensity of poverty among Brahmins even during the ‘Thretha Yuga’ right under the nose of Lord Krishna. I will do all the acting and you have to simply walk across the stage, revealing the empty space between your chest and hip, till I offer you a seat close to me and grab the small packet from your hand.
    How  simple!
    No, it was not, when the play was staged.
    Something which the learned professor never expected happened.
    Seated near Krishna, the poor Brahmin, that was me, out of curiosity, opened the small bundle in his hand, tasted a grain of the sweet puffed rice, continued to put the grains, one by one, into his mouth till the last grain had been eaten!
    That is not kathakali.
    But, believe me when I say that the audience enjoyed every bit of my action. The open air-theater at the Victoria college, reverberated with the thunderous applause of the students and teaching staff. Everyone forgot that in kathakali, you have only ‘mudras’, hand and finger movement, facial and eye expressions and dance. Every part of the body, except the tongue, speaks. The success of my Kutchela was that my action revealed the level of his poverty. When you are hungry, you will eat any thing that comes to your hand, even a packet of puffed rice meant for the God. Our Gods are not hungry; that is why they are not eating   the ‘neyyappams’ and ‘ payasam’, we offer.  And  if  they  were,  you will offer only, ‘pushpam, jalam and thoyam’. ‘Phalam ‘ . Fruits, either you will eat or give to your children, if you are not hungry.
    Vijayan master, I expected, would pulverize my bones and make puffed rice out of them. But he didn’t .He simply said,” I thank my stars, I didn’t stage “Dussana vadham” and  ask you to do the leading roll. You would have unrobed the boy playing the role of Panchali”  He continued,” in the history of Kathakali, this is the first time,  Kutchela actually ate the puffed rice, handed over by his wife, to be given to Krishna. More than regretting your idiotic action on the stage, I feel sorry for the audience, who applauded your action.  It is unfortunate that, there was not a single boy or girl in that vast crowd, to throw a few stones at your head, alarmingly vacant.”
    His pain was understandable.
    He was not the first person to keep his finger on his nose in dismay and ask himself, a question which several of my readers are asking every time they open my post. “How this fellow is allowed to walk free in this globe, after creating so much trash!”
    When I was about to leave his room, hanging my head down, sad about his comments on my head’s poverty, he said, “next time when we act, leave a few grains for me too, just for tasting!”
    Unlike many other people of my age, I seek the company of women, for my morning walk.( again deviation from the topic of discussion, for which I seek your pardon).  They talk about their daughters-in-law and mothers-in-law with equal dislike . They have that impartiality and I like that. And they never talk about their disease unlike my male friends.
    I asked an old colleague of mine, a butter-fly in her early seventies but still attractive with an air of authority, wisdom and wits. They are her original attributes; otherwise, everything is duplicate, with  her – hairs, teeth, ear, eyes, heart, kidney, jewels and even husband! Her name is Parvadha vardhini and she insists that everyone should call her ‘ Puppy’ and not  Parvadham, though by virtue of her body-size, she deserved to be called so .
    “How is that you never talk about any disease, Puppy, whereas, my other friends talk only about that topic”, I asked her once.” Glad  that  you have none.”
    “Who said I have no disease?” Puppy retorted.” My disease is at home, reading newspaper or searching for some sweet preparations, in the kitchen”. She was joking. She always jokes; mostly about me but this time about her hubby.
    Next to kids, I love the company of youngsters. Life becomes vibrant and lively when you join them and enjoy their pranks. I never question their action or advise them .They hate both.  Anyway they won’t obey you; there is no need also.
    My children have mostly disobeyed me and  I am proud of them. If your children, obey every nonsense you utter and move their head like puppets, be careful; there is danger around the corner. Take them to a psychiatrist-earlier the better!
    “If you have stopped asking questions, you have stopped growing”  Jaddu has said something to this effect. His words were more beautiful. Open your old books and see how your ancestors have questioned their mother, father, guru and even God.
    “Mother, tell me” asked Satyakama.” Who is my father?”
    There can’t be a simpler question any mother would expect from her child.  Ajapala was a honest woman. She told the truth. Her lovely body had no cloth to cover upon, except poverty. So our ancestors, Kousika or Kasyapa gothras, exploited her poverty. When I start “abhivadaye,Viswamitra —,I pause for a moment and visualize  my great ancestor’s posture with his face turned and  hand extended, refusing to accept his own child. He had no answer when asked how he could forsake his own child. I respect him for his other virtues, but those don’t come before my mind, when I think of his name; Bad acts  always precede  good  ones, when you try to recall  anyone’s activities, except your own !
    “Father, to whom wilt I be given” asked the virtuous Nachiketha, frustrated by his father’s act in donating the worthless cows to the needy Brahmins”. A second time and a third time he asked that question
    Vachasravas, in an angry mood, shouted, “To death I give thee”.( “Vayai moodeda –shut up”, we will tell our children, in the same situation. That is equally bad ). The little man, tender in age, stood like a rock, waited at the door of Death, unmindful of hunger and thirst for three nights and when the Lord of Death arrived, he asked a simple question, “Is death, a comma or full-stop?” He didn’t yield to Yama’s inducements and ultimately, he was sent back to earth, with the lamp of wisdom. We should also not dampen our children’s inquisitiveness by asking them to shut their mouth.
    Seated on the chariot, in between the two warring groups when the war was about to start, Arjuna asked Krishna, ”Why should  I kill all these people, my cousins, my teachers, my uncles and grandparents and so many other close relatives, just to get back the lost kingdom? I don’t mind loosing it for ever rather than living on wealth and pleasures soaked in their blood. Vyasa’s  poetry shines in “Bhunjeeya boghan rudhira pradigdhan” Krishna was not only Arjuna’s  best friend, but his  guide and guru also. So, he elaborately explained to him the reasons. He didn’t say ‘shut-up and fight’, though he could have said that. Arjuna would have obeyed,. but would have lost the battle and  we wouldn’t have got that  philosophical  marvel, laced with  dazzling poetry.
    Yes, “Mayi sarvamitham proktham, Soothrey manigana iva:” Is upper most in my mind, when I mention about the poetic beauty interwoven in that rare masterpiece.
    Krishna, in his inimitable kindness, mentions all living and non-living things, as cluster of pearls . The string in the center is the connecting factor. The string remains as such, even after the pearls get loosened and separated but if the string is broken all the pearls scatter .Then there is no garland.
    When the inherent divinity or faith or whatever you name for that belief in a supreme power, is broken, we just scatter, loosing our identity, our shine.
    While climbing up the steps of the Ganges in Dakshineswar, with a pitcher of water for pouring over the twelve lingas on both sides, one of the pictures for sale, on the side shop used to attract me always- that of the mother Goddess holding the uthareeyam, upper garment of Sri.Ramakrishna and happily following him like a child. That picture vibrated my heart so much that, gazing the twinkling stars and smiling moon, I used to weep silently, wondering how great is the love of the God for his creations! He follows you, holding your T-shirt ( like me you do not have an uthareeyam, I guess),  if you think of Him once a while, like me.  ‘Ennada, Krishna, ippidi prananai vangahari-why do you trouble me like this, God?” I used to ask him, when tormented by difficulties. Suddenly I see his smiling face in a corner  or on a tree -top across my front or side doors of the house. He is ready for performing the celestial dance, ‘Kaliyamardhanam’- But there is no need for that. The poisonous multihodded Kaliya has already withdrawn and escaped into the deep waters.
    I am sure that you too would have seen that smile or heard that melody of his flute and if not so far unfortunately, will feel His presence very close to you, very very close to you -why within you, when you read these lines.
    Do not worry if the time and circumstances not favour your performing the prescribed rituals, but remember that He is the string on which you stay, move and shine ; He is the string which holds you in tact and once you get loose from its hold, you fall down and scatter on the floor,unsung and unmourned. And also remember that He will not easily allow you to strip and fall, because you are a precious pearl (mani) for him!
    .“Mayi sarvamidaM protaM suutre maNigaNaa iva:


    Love,
    Siva, Hyderabad
    July16, 2009
    My Website : http://perinkulams.wordpress.com/
    To be edited:



    Generally, no body likes  to be questioned, especially some of our religious leaders, to whom we look at, to clear our doubts.
    Either they feel that we are too small to interact with them or expect us to swallow their words of wisdom as they come out of their holy mouth
    Sometime ago, I took some youngsters from US, on vacation to India, to the head of a religious place .When the young men  prostrated before the Sanyasi, he neither raised his hand to bless nor opened his mouth to say a few words. He  turned his face away and engaged in talking to others, as if those fallen at his feet were objects of no concern for him.
    “The statues in temples, when we prostrated before them, didn’t speak; but they didn’t turn their head away,“ lamented  the youngsters “:What do you expect us to learn from His holiness?’.
    The great teachers, in the good olden days, treated their visitors with respect and  disciples as their own children. They didn’t push them with the handle of their palm-leaf fans!
    When I returned to my hotel room, one of the NRI guests had left a small peace of paper on my table, with a quotation from Jaddu Krishnamurti,scribbled on it:
    “Do experiment with what I am saying. Put aside your religions, your customs, your racial taboos and all the rest of it, for they are not life. If you are caught in those things, you will never discover life;  and the  functions of education, surely, is to discover life, all the time.”
    When I finished reading it, my guests entered. ”Yes, I understand your feeling” I tried to pacify them, “Do, you know what we should do? –”.
    Before I completed, they said,” we certainly do, uncle. We should say good bye”.
    “Young men, say good bye to me,” I murmured, “but not to the treasure house, you have acquired from your ancestors, just because a few men clad in colour cloths or bare chest, didn’t treat you like human beings.”
    .But they were not there  to hear my words of wisdom; They had already left the place.
    Even the “Gurunam Guru”,Dakshinamurthy, while explaining the true nature of the Supreme to a group of  old sages, through his silence, was full of smiles, “muditha vadanam”, says the great Thirumeni of my native land.
    I am reminded of the gracious and affectionate, though wrinkled face of that great seer of Kanchi, the late chandra sekharasaraswathy, to meet whom I used to run like a thirsty calf towards it’s mother. In the year 1985, he was camping at Kurnool, in a mill- compound, on the shores of the Tungabhadra river. I went there, along with a friend of mine, V.K.Krishnaswamy iyengar, a retired navy officer.  He had no family of his own, had enough money to lead a comfortable life, despite the large amount he wasted, during his young days, on vices, both major and minor. .
    We were lucky to bathe in the river, along with the saint and walk along with him to his place. I had to physically, push Iyengar, down at the feet of the  acharya, as he didn’t know how to greet a saint, when I took him to the great Guru.  I explained to the master about my friend’s background and the old man just smiled, as usual. That innocent, child-like smile, activates every micro organisms in the body and bring tears to your eyes. That was his attraction.
    “Avidhyanam’ chollu” The saint ordered remembering the ‘Soundarayalahari’ slokas I recited before him,as a ten-year old child.
    “I never visited a temple or a mutt for the past 30 years,” V.K told the saint, “Still, while bathing in the river this morning along with you, I felt that I was bathing in Ganges. I haven’t yet, recovered from that feeling .The peace and pleasure, I enjoy now, I never had in my life so far. Can I spend the remaining part of my life, serving you and the math?  Will you accept this sinner and his money?”
    “You are not a sinner,  let it be very clear to you.” The Acharya said,” If you were, you wouldn’t have come here.The traces of sin, if any also vanished when we took bath together, this morning.
    You wants to serve the math. Let me take the opinion of our learned Iyengar friend, who has been serving me and the math, for quite some time now” The saint,turned his head and with a twinkle in his eyes and a naughty smile asked the Iyengar sitting in a corner, busy with his ledger work,”  Intha madathukku,nee oru  poratha – you, one, not enough for our mutt?”
    Every one laughed.
    Then, he looked at V.K and said,” one Ranghachari is running a Samskrita  patasala, near Kumbhakonam,. He badly needs some support, physical and financial. You can collect his address and other details, from the mutt. Try to help him. If you are still left with some money, after keeping the required amount for your expenses, spent the rest on poor and needy.”
    While we took leave of Acharya, V.K, was sobbing like a child.
    “Guru is he, whose life is mingled with God’s life, who is intoxicated with the bliss of the eternal and whose heart is overflowing with compassion and love for all creatures and beings in the world. The touch, society or even a sight of such a great and illumined personality would be at once bring a sense of indescribable relief to the struggling soul, and set him on the path of immortality, peace and bliss” said  Swami Ramadas, of  anandhasramam.
    In fact, almost all the troubles, in our society is due to peoples’ yes, yes’ attitude .I have seen elderly people standing before someone they respect, bending their body at 90 degrees, closing the mouth with
    their right hand, left hand hidden behind. The respected souls, instead of dissuading them, enjoy that sight and encourage them to do so.
    Arjuna, didn’t stand like that.
    .Have you seen any pictures, Arjuna, standing before Krishna, bending his body, in the shape of inverted ‘L’ and blocking the air passages, with both the hands? And, sirs, he was questioning whom? ‘Krishnam vande jagadgurum.’
    The moment you stop asking questions, you stop living. Jaddu said something like that. I don’t remember his actual words which are more beautiful.
    Droupathi was a great woman. She was fire-born, brought up as a prince and the legitimate  co-occupant of the of the great Hathinapura throne, which she didn’t occupy most of the time .She had to spend the best part of her life, walking in the forest and serving others.  She was treated shabbily, by every one, right from the moment she entered her in-law’s house. She was, undoubtedly, Arujuna’s asset and she belonged only to him . When Kunthi realized her mistake of unknowingly asking her five sons to share her, she would have corrected her words .She didn’t do it. What right she had to ask her ‘bahu’ to accept her five sons as her husband? Did she want to perpetuate the stupidly committed by her earlier? And the great Yudhistira, son of the king of ‘Dharma’, happily accepted his mother’s orders! And  his younger brothers respectfully obeyed him.
    But what about the pride and dignity of that poor girl ? None bothered.
    And she was mortgaged as if she was a lifeless article, when the elder pandava, the epic man of wisdom, lost a game! And the great warrior princes known for their valour and strength, courage and pride, simply stood as stone statues, when their helpless  wife was de-robed, right before their eyes!
    The ill-treatment continued till the end. Yudhistira, preferred a dog, to his devoted wife, while ascending the portals of Heaven. Leave away giving her a  fitting farewell, he didn’t  stand near the beautiful body of his beloved, when it fell on the road side and  shed a few tears for her or, even for his brothers .And the Lord Yama, the  master of virtues and righteousness accepted him. The reason for his action was ridiculously simple- Yudhishtira happened to be his son! Let us boycott him.
    I missed the main point. Drowpadi asked the elders assembled in the royal court, “How can Yudhishtira mortgage me, when he himself had mortgaged himself, first?”
    Even, the Great Bhishma, didn’t answer her question.
    Valid questions, many times remain unanswered. But, still you ask. That is how the society progresses. That is how the world advances.
    “The exciting thing is that we don’t know what lies beyond the unopened door— and each door will open to many more doors—each answer leading to many more questions— that is discovery”

  • A disrupted dream and a devastated melody‏

    FThe Lord of seven hills, have enough golden crowns to adorn the Divine head for another seven or seventy incarnations and he will be too happy if the money spent on the gem-packed golden head- wear, donated by the Kanchi Aacharya  is utilized for alleviating the hunger of millions of his deprived and discarded subjects or to uplift them from the depth of ignorance and ill health.  But who am I to comment on the action of His Holiness, the head of a Mutt?
    But I can dream. And dreaming knows no boundary and is not governed by the stringent rules of any Agamas or Sastras. Nor those with huge brains can frighten my silly, small brain with any gratuitous display of mental superiority  and threaten  to  pulverize me or call me a psychopath, because dreaming is a purely personal experience.
    I see a saffron-robed young Namboodiri, standing in front of a small hut surrounded by lush green landscape in Kerala, seeking a handful of rice just sufficient to satisfy his hunger for the day..The house-lady, paces up and down her small dwelling, struggling to find some eatable material, which can be dropped in the cloth- pouch hanging from the shoulder of the handsome young yogi, but alas, she has none with her. With moist eyes she searches again and thanks to the Lord Vadakkunathan, Siva, she is able to locate a small gooseberry fruit, which she drops, with shaking hands, inside the kamandalu, the  pitcher,  as the size of the fruit is so small that it will be difficult to pick it up from the spacious pouch.
    The young sanyasi, expected to be miles away from emotion and attachment, now weeps silently. What a pity ! He cannot even expel his crushing mental burden by expressing his anguish through tears. He uses the only skill he has, the only language he has learned-he prays.
    ‘Angam hare pulakabhooshanmasryanthi—“
    Thus he pours out his anguish in words after words, eulogizing the ‘karunakataksham ‘,  compassionate glance of the Goddess of wealth , again and again and seeking her blessings for showers of wealth.
    Right from the first line and first stanza of the ‘Kankadhara’ stotram,   poetic  beauty and fragrance blossoms and spreads  in waves after waves on the ocean of compassion in the tender heart of Adi Sankara
    His heart- beats become faster and faster and pearls of tears rolls more and more from his eyes,  when he sings:
    **“Dhadyaddhayanupavanopi dravinambhudaraam,
    Asminna kinchina vihanga sisou vishanne,
    Dhushkaramagarmmapaneeya chiraya dhooram,
    Narayana pranayinee nayanambhuvaha.
    Please send your mercy which is like wind,
    And shower the rain of wealth on this parched land,,
    And quench the thirst of this little chataka bird,
    And likewise ,drive away afar my load of sins,
    Oh, darling of  Narayana, by the glance from your cloud like dark eyes.”
    (**Translation by sri P.G.Ramachander-  copied from his website  www.sthothrarathnas.com )
    The melody uninterruptedly flowing from the Kaladi river, enthralls the celestial couple in the holy seven hills and they wonder why this aditional head weight ,  glistening with gems and pearls, for them.
    Let this article be my  goosebery reverently placed on the devine palms..
    ———————————————————————————-

    Re: FW: A disrupted dream and a devastated melody‏
    From: SRINIVASAN S (cheenu1953@gmail.com)
    Sent: 12 July 2009 21:51PM
    To: Sivasubramanian Perinkulam (sivaratna@hotmail.com)

    கண்ணில் தாரையுடன் படித்தேன்.
    affectionate thambi @ coimbatore
    ————————————————————————————-

  • What do you know about poverty, Sir?

    RFr”Mry class mates in the school and college from the nearby Brahmin villages, used to come to the class shabbily dressed, with uncombed hair and no footwear to protect their sole from the torching heat or an umbrella to protect their head
    from the pouring rains. From their shrunken face I could read that they would have come for studies with an empty
    stomach and also will have nothing to eat when they go back home?
    What do you know about poverty, Sir?”
    I asked a friend, through one of these columns, sometime ago.
    I ask the same question again to those who support donating jewels to rich temples or throw basket-full of apples and mangoes, laddus and kanchi pattu saries into the sacred fire, in the name of propitiating the Gods. When you pour milk, ghee or honey on the head of a deity, chanting appropriate mantras, from a spoon or a small pitcher ‘kindi’ or kamandalu’, it becomes ‘abhisheakam’ or celestial bath. But when you pour those precious fluids, which can alleviate the hunger of many, in liters and gallons, it becomes a crime.
    I am serious. This is not one of my usual posts , where I vainly attempt to make you laugh or smile and forget your worries for a short while ( and get a bad name and bashings left and right, in that process).  Sometime ago, one of the Tamil visual media,  used to show  repeatedly a well-built Brahmin, call him Guru, swamy or sanyasi, I am least bothered, dropping apples and ladoos and other fruits and eatables, in tons along with costly silk sarees in dozens, into the mouth of sacred fire.The back ground was ideal with a number of ‘madisar’ mamies and bare chested mamas with white criss-cross marks all over their body.
    Do you think that this show was repeatedly telecast to spread the cult of ‘bakthi” or to stress the importance of performing homams or worship through the fire god?  I am happy that you do not think so. This show was a purposeful video propaganda to tell people how brahmins are wasting the valuable resources while millions around are starving.
    Chellappa’s ailing wife in the hospital is asking for just one apple, as prescribed by the doctor. She had never eaten that fruit before. Chellappa weeps silently because he doesn’t have money to buy one apple fruit. But he sobs uncontrallably, as if his heart would break into pieces, when his daughter asks for an apple, after seeing dozens of such fruits, being thrown into the fire, in the TV.(Provided free of cost by a vote seeking vulture).
    I know now that you will weep, if I ask you the question,”‘what do you know about povertry, sir?”.
    Don’t do that. Pour liters and gallons of pure water over the head of the Siva lingam in your pooja room. ‘Neelakantaya, Mrithyunjaya,Sarveswaraya, Sadasivaya Sremman Mahadevaya namaha:”
    Your God carries on His Divine head the Ganga, perennial celestial river and NOT a dairy. Still, you can pour water over His head and he will appreciate that , if  that satisfies you.

  • Theft of Hindu symbols and practices

    Post by Shri Gopal R. Krishna in Yahoo groups
    Dear All,
    Hindu symbols, practices and terminology is being stolen and used by christians as part of their evangelical work. Most of you may be aware of it and some of you must be witness to it.
    Should that theft contiue? How is safeguarding our personal property different from safeguarding our cultural identity? What should be done? Should any thing be done at all? Is this a fight against the church? Or is it a dialouge to prevent theft? How would you all respond to this theft?
    Traditionally it is said that brahmins shy away from confrontation.

    But through out history it is brahmins who have provided leadership and initiative in India.
    How would brahmins of this community respond to this theft? would you be comfortable in providing back up support if someone takes the initiative?
    Regards
    Gopal.R.Krishna
  • Hindu temple in Minneapolis


    As posted by Shri S Narayanaswamy Iyer in Yahoo groups

    Dear fellow-Brahmins

    May I respectfully enquire what is the main “deity” worshipped in this Minneapolis temple?  According to which agama are rituals there performed?  What are the qualifications for priests there?

    I have been to several so-called “Hindu” temples during my peripatetic sojourns in the US, UK and Europe.  Quite a lot are not to dedicated to any recognized deity found in our scriptures, whether Vedas, Puranas, or songs.  They are dedicated instead to some deified humans, often deviationists whose highly emotional followers encourage adoring these “manufactured deities” rather than divinities we are familiar with.  The ornate, conscipuous and mushrooming “Swaminarayan” temples are examples.  Others are to various “sadhus” or “gurus” or meat-eating, drug-taking, alcohol-consuming, tobacco-smoking “village-guardian” dark spirits that inspire terror rather than piety.

    Some of these temples encourage “going into trances” when the mediums (both men and women) move about erratically and screech or scream and utter gibberish, till quietened down, for example by whip-lashing or by having lumps of camphor lit on their tongues or other tender parts of the body.  A few hack themselves with knives, or pierce themselves with skewers, while shaking and shivering uncontrollably.

    S Narayanaswamy Iyer