Meenakshi - in The Age of Kali

I am curious to know how outsiders perceive India – us and our culture.  Because they, like children who spot rainbows in oil spillages, can sometimes reveal things that miss our senses. Their views may not be always akin to ‘finding rainbows’.  They can also be like the newcomer’s wrinkling of nose at the stench of the Kovum river, and his bewilderment at people who carry on with life on its banks, indifferent or insensitive to this stench [V.S. Naipaul’s variety].

Nevertheless, these authors, not very surprisingly, reveal fascinating things about our world that we simply didn’t bother to find about. Most of the times, their perspectives are thought-provoking, making us wonder why things are so.  But sometimes, their perspectives seem to stem from stereotypical biases or assumptions.

Last weekend, I got hold of a copy of William Dalrymple’s ‘Age of Kali’. The book makes an interesting read with topics as light and frothy as Shobha De and her Bombay socialite evenings and as serious and grim as Sri Lankan turmoil.  Though the anecdotes and experiences are nearly a decade old, they still have relevance today.  And as always, its always fascinating to look at the past and wonder at the way things have panned out.

On browsing the TOC, a particular chapter caught my attention immediately – At the Court of the Fish-eyed 

Goddess – as it was about the temple of Madurai, a topic close to my heart, and it’s Goddess Meenakshi.  I read this chapter first.

Bliss as Sweet as Appam

Why fiddle in a long queue for hours,   get caught in a hooting horde, get squeezed between sweaty bods, loose your peace of mind to the disrespectful guards and the chiding priests, only to be dissatisfied with the fleeting glimpse of the deity for whom you travelled so much?  By the time you get to reach the sanctum sanctorum, if you think retrospectively, you will realize that there’s not much trace of bhakthi left, that you had reserved for the God.

[Some of my friends might argue why ever go to the temples and get into all this trouble.  And my answer is that I simply love the magic of old temples.]

Or perhaps, I shouldn’t generalize.  But this was the experience of my family when we visited Sri Rangam a few months ago.  I had just visited this temple once when I was in my fourth standard.  The beautiful island, with its majestic temple gopuram rising above the coconut sea, always used to allure me every time I crossed Trichy (Thiruchirappalli).  When a friend of us scheduled her marriage in Trichy, I thought that this is the great opportunity that I had been waiting for to do a temple tour of Trichy, Thanjavur and Kumbakonam.

Holy smoke: The Gopurams of Sri Rangam temple are tall  and majestic.

No doubt the temple is vast and beautiful.  The layers and layers of wide praharams and the innumerable shrines of beautiful deities are so fascinating.  As much as the age of the temple and the miraculous stories that surround it, the chaste and devoted iyengars who visit the temple inspire a sense of respect for the temple and make the place even more rare and precious – as if the place has a quality that you would revere, and feel shy to touch and feel.

Those who spoiled this fantastic experience were the temple authoritie and the priests.  The authorities had some amazing rules that’ll defy the ones you can find in Catch-22.  And the pujaris were very discourteous to people who looked less affluent, while they chased the better looking ones with donation tickets.  These are worthy of a separate post.  And this state of affairs is not uncommon these  days in any big, established temples.

At the end of the day, all I remember are the broad, brilliant eyes of Ranganathar in the divine lights of the inner shrine.

Just a speck for the time bird: Kollidam as seen in Kallanai.

The very next day, I had a darshan of the God in a different place, in a more peaceful setting, with just mystical soundlessness as the background.

Divinity in simplicity: Koviladi Appakkudathan temple is  charmingly quaint and calm.

This heart warming experience was at Thirupernagar, also called as Koviladi [the place that's just about an adi-kal distance from Sri Rangam], just about 15 -20 kms from Trichy,  on the way to Thiruvaiyyar.


To give further indications to its location, Koviladi is on the way from Trichy  to Thirukkattupalli [a slightly better known Shaivite town and should be even better known for people who have read Kalki's Ponniyin Selvan].
The route itself is scenic [at least in early summer!] and courses through the rich Thanjavur delta of paddy fields and criss-crosses the great Kollidam, river.  It passes through the Grand Anaicut or Kallani, the great reservoir on Cauvery, built by the early Cholas.  One gets to see how the river is part and parcel of everyday lives of people here.

In Koviladi, Lord Vishnu, reclines in his Adisehsa bed, as he does in Sri Rangam.  He’s known by the name Thiru Appakkudathan or Appala Ranganathan.  The name follows from this story: 

A king once was cursed by the Sage Dhurvasa and to be liberated, was asked to feed a lakh people at this kshetram.  One day, when the king was engaged in such an annadhana, Lord Vishnu came to him, disguised as a Brahmin.  The Brahmin consumed all the food that had been prepared.  When the perplexed king, asked the Brahmin, what could suppress his hunger, the Brahmin said that a pot (kudam) of appam would do the miracle.  So the king did, and lo his curse was removed.  Lord Vishnu showed himself and continued to reside in this temple. To this day, appam is offered to the Lord as neivedhyam.

It is also considered the place where Sage Markandeya was blessed by Lord Vishnu and was relieved of the curse of dying at the age of 16.  The sage can be seen at the feet of the Lord in the shrine.  It is also considered the place where the Lord squashed Indra's pride.
In the shrine, one can partake the Lord, in his full glory, from head to feet, without the disturbance from the chiding priests and the impatient crowd.  The Lord is charming and could be seen resting his right hand on a silver pot, which is meant to be the pot of appams.   The Lord is accompanied by Goddess Lakshmi, known as Kamalvalli.

The fallen God: The temple though was undergoing renovation,  lacks maintenance

The young bhattar (priest) at the temple, explained the thalapuranam (the story of the place) in clear, detailed manner.  He sang several pasurams on the presiding deity, in his golden voice and charmed us with his sincerity and devotion to the temple.  I forgot his name, but I think it could be Srinivasa Bhattar (as I see in this blog).

Ad Hominem

My friend Vijay TV's (VTV) recent blog post prompted me to write a few lines on it.

Like him, I never thought I'd write on this subject.   But unlike him, I didn't bother to write, because I was, simply not bothered.

I will not contest VTV's sentiments towards this issue. That's not the problem at all […though I read Kushboo's statement differently.]

But what piqued me, was his rationale in defending his sentiment which reaches the ultimate conclusion that Kushboo should shut up.  Why?

Because she's from the cinema industry, which according to VTV, is the biggest sex industry.  And people who come from such an industry - presumably, people with loose morals, do not have a stand to comment on such topics.

My question, then, VTV,  is, had the statement been made by someone outside the film industry, let’s say N Ram or  Sachin Tendulkar (whom I’m sure, you’d have some respect for),  would it have been more acceptable or carried more credibility?

If not, I guess you’re falling in trap of the classical logical fallacy.

Invitations to the Dream World

Read this beautiful lullaby in one of the blogs that I read regularly and was charmed by the innocently simple, beautiful and hopeful lines.

Lullabies are the most soothing songs of this earth. It’s blissful to catch a scene of a mother singing to her baby, making the little one sleep:

The night is cool, and the earth is wet. Sounds have ceased and the world is at rest. Save the cicadas', there’s no other sound. Stars are winking and the moon’s playing hide and seek. The deeply scented night flowers have bloomed somewhere, filling the air with mystique. And then you hear the mother singing to her child. This is heaven.

Lullabies are about all beautiful in the universe – the moon, the stars, flowers, birds, mountains, oceans, and other wonderful things. They make a person dream and imagine, hope and believe in the goodness of life.

They might, sometimes, carry a tinge of sadness, a subtle reference to the plights and sufferings of the mother or the family or the clan itself. They might be loaded with the parent’s own longings, unfulfilled dreams and wishes. This is the flavour that most lullaby songs in Indian movies carry (for e.g. the classic ‘Malarnthum malaratha’ (Paasamalar) with some magnificent lyrics from Kannadhasan, or the very poignant ‘Thendrale…thendrale’ (Kadhal Desam) by ARR, in the recent times ).

Even then, they leave a final word of consolation to the wounded, instil the belief that things would be alright and that tomorrow would be a grand new day.

There are many beautiful lullabies composed in Carnatic music, mainly sung to a deity – be it Rama or Krishna - ‘Jo Jo Achchuthananda Jo Jo Mukunda’ by MSS comes to my mind immediately. Someone wondered why these lullabies are always for Gods and not for Goddesses. It could be that we see all Goddesses as mothers, and mothers are not meant to sleep, but keep vigil on their young ones. Some gender bias here?

Switching back to the topic of lullabies –When I started digging for lullabies in Tamil, I came across this beautiful one –a popular one:

கண்ணான கண்ணுறங்கு என் கண்மணியே!

கானமயிலுறங்கு என் பூமணியே!

பொன்னான பொழுதுறங்கு என் வெண்மணியே!

பூமரத்து வண்டுறங்கு என் விண் நிலவே!

செண்டாட பூமலரும் வண்டாட தேன்வடியும்!

வண்டாடும் பொய்கையினில் !

வந்தாடும் அன்ன ஊஞ்சல்!

அன்ன ஊஞ்சல் போலிருக்கும் என் மண் ஒளியே!

அருங்கிளியே தேன்மழையே திருவாசகமே நீயுறங்கு!

Each word in this song paints a beautiful picture or sows a marvellous thought – either calling out to the little child with the simplest of endearments such as a parrot or a peacock or taking the affection to a higher level by comparing the child to a song of great wisdom (திருவாசகமே).

Here’s how I translated this song (with doles of creative liberty(!)):

My vision, apple of my eye,

Peacock dancing to an overcast sky,

My precious jewel, my flawless pearl,

Fluttering butterfly on a flowery trail,

Moon of my clear night skies

Time to rest, close your eyes.

Oh, the li’l bud grows a honeyed flower,

Beckoning the merry bee,

That dances over lotus flowers

Where sways the swan, see.

Oh, the one swaying like the swan,

Light of my mind, my dawn

Sweet parrot, my nectar rain,

Song of rarest wisdom, one can find,

Time to rest, may you sleep.

These are great words to invite sleep and step into the realms of dreams.

So, what happened to such beautiful lullabies these days?

P.S. To be fair to Parvathy, she sings great many a deal of devotional songs to Pranav and to be fair to myself, I sing lots of film songs to him J