Srisailam – Part II
Through out the stay, I was very
alert to the sacredness of the place. An invisible current of great power flows
underneath these hills. The visual signs of high voltage transmission lines and
the waterfalls - these may represent just a fraction of the total power (Sakti) present in these Nallamalla
forests. Many a great soul wandered on these paths – from Adi Sankara, the
local tribal devotees, Akkamma Devi, and to even our dear parents. And many
must have prayed on these gentle rolling hills. The renowned Paramacharya did
his meditations here, on a spot where the incomparable instructor Adi Sankara
had done dhyan hundreds, if not
thousands of years back. Visitors can see the precincts of a Kanchi Kamakoti
Mutt with Sivalinga, beautifully laid on the temple campus.
During our brief two day sojourn
here, I came across a few incidents that remained etched in my consciousness.
When on one morning, a lady prostrated on the path to the temple (I think near
Sri Krishna Devaraya Gopuram), I felt humbled instantly: I wondered, oh, I
could not equal her devotion and humility. The entire land, trees, water, air
and the temple walls including the majestic gates, everything concealed a
mystical auspiciousness. One gets
similar feelings while walking on the hills of Tirumalai. Next time I must
remind myself to walk barefoot on these precious holy paths. The writer
witnessed such instances of barefoot walking in Madurai also. On the periphery
wall here, you can see a number of Siva stories, engraved picturesquely. To
feel it, I needed only a peaceful mind, pure heart, and not the outer external
eyes, but the calmer gentle inner eye. Then, a fleeting thought: To a great
enlightened saint or to Siva, there is no “impure thing” in this world. It was
Trilingaswamy (actually he had been called by many a name, what an uplifting
thought - I too was born in the same Telugu land) who in his inimitable
compassionate way had showed that there was no difference between freshly cut
flowers and amedhyamu. But, sadly,
we, the lesser human beings always notice the purely peripheral, external
appearances on a road, sidewalk, or path, often we find them distracting from
the vast holiness. For our eyes, only cigarette buts, spillage of coffee on the
road, sputum, or biological waste appear, often jarring the beauty of the land.
Of course, since everything is sacred on this earth, it is incumbent on
everyone to keep the surroundings as clean as possible. Yet, one must not fall
into the trap of mistakenly identifying the purely external cleanliness with
“the real sacred”. If that were the case, countless hospital wards or
presidential palaces can claim to
be the places of “celestial holiness”. Both beauty and sacredness are certainly
beyond the outer physical appearances or beyond the glittering artificial
external opulence.
Like many devotees I too went into
the inner sanctum, holding carefully a partially opened plastic bottle with
kewra water. I tried my best to hold it intact till I reached the arupi-rupa. Alas, due to a jerk, maybe a
slight push from a friendly devotee, my hand trembled and I spilled the perfume
on the floor. I felt a tad sad reflexively, but now as I recollect – perhaps,
that too was preordained. The Lord understood my innocent mistake, but here is
a Mahadeva, the great Lord of Lords (Deva-Deva), who accepted the misbehaved
kewra too into His lap. What a great compassionate Deva? Even when He gave
punishment to any human being or devata, that punishment too turned into a kind
of boon. O Lord, please just let me dwell on you, perhaps through umpteen
stupid mistakes and endless repeated falls, I may reach you. Your gaze is alone
enough for me to lighten my weighty burdens on the earth.
We stayed in a simple choultry. Two
meals are served piping hot freely to all pilgrims. Simple vegetarian meals.
But the meals were very tasty and a sweet dish was also served. I still
remember the mouth-watering Dondakayi
(Coccinia grandis) chutney. Also, hot
water for bath is provided to the guests at a nominal cost. Of course, a simple
south Indian breakfast (idli, dosa, and coffee) too is available on the
premises.
Having got used to warm showers at
home, bracing for an early morning cold water bath, that too in the chilly wee
hours is not easy for me – I still tremble at the thought. Though in summer
occasionally I endure bone-chilling yet utterly exhilarating cold showers here
in the northeast. Who else can understand the mundane troubles of ordinary
children? Except a mother, like the Jillellamudi Amma. Years ago, when an
elderly Setty wanted to leave her ashram the same evening, due to the lack of
hot bath water on the premises, the kind Mother intervened. “Dear Nanna, please stay here tonight.” How
could he express his weakness for hot water showers? That too when all the
other ashram visitors take cold water bath? With age one becomes cautious about the mortal body habits
and comforts. Some may get chills with cold water bath or develop fevers upon
contact with cold water. Any change in physical exercise, food, or bath (hot or
cold) should be done slowly progressively. So, the kind Amma arranged for a
steaming water on the tap for her faithful devotee next morning out of nowhere.
When the Supreme Mother could dictate time dilation, what is so difficult in
creating hot water?
Perhaps the hilly Lord remembered
my humble village childhood days. Those daily trips to the Godavari stream, to
the village tank, or the well in our compound. He excused my infractions and
provided a warm bath during our stay here at the inn. Still I feel a bit guilty,
for sacrificing the sacred tree stumps for providing hot water – that too for
providing comfort to this insignificant devotee. I try not to cut down even a
dead tree in our garden – for it too is providing a cozy shelter to the
pileated woodpeckers and the crawling insect families. The making of hot water,
the tall steel drum, the forest firewood, and the staff of the inn – they all
reminded my formative years in my native town, a bustling town very well known
for its famous Siva temple. In those days, out of town travelers used to get
two buckets of hot water for two quarters! The only difference between the two
situations is – now the water is boiled in a steel drum, earlier we would heat
the water in a large copper vessel (desa డేసా ).
When I was about to enjoy
the prasadam (tamarind rice పులిహోర ), a gentle bull came over for its share. He too was
very hungry and could not wait any longer. I was klutzy with my fingers,
hurriedly trying to remove the plastic cover, lest it may hurt the bovine.
Finally I gave her two small packs of the tasty rice. I recall similar incident
in the coastal town. There, in the old days, bulls used to roam around our
streets with complete freedom and abandon. No one would hit them as they were
considered a form of nandi; many restaurants used to happily give them food,
vegetables, and water. Except for a rare incident or two, mostly the bulls used
to live happily amidst the humans. That single act of love towards cows
certainly contributed to the town’s progress and prosperity. And prosperity in
all spheres: Commerce, finance, culture, and education.
When we were just
standing near one of the temple entrances, a young lady showed up with a steel
tiffin carrier and asked for a small donation. She wanted to feed ten people –
a breakfast with dosa and chutney. For hundred fifty rupees. Innocently I said
to her, “Please you serve them yourself and you reap the punya.” Because I felt
a little embarrassed about the rather insignificant gesture. Now as I ponder intuitively, perhaps
She is none other than the Bhramaramba. Came to help me do a small act of
charity. Me in a clumsily draped silk dhoti, must have struck an odd sight there on the temple threshold.
Way back in the past, at least mother helped me wear a mini-dhoti with proper
folds for the temple visit. Such are the gestures of immense affection shown by
our mothers and the Mother; here I have been foolishly looking for peace of
mind in all odd places.
As I was leaving the holy
place, my thoughts wandered all over. There in the perimeter, the wandering
mendicants’ chants of ‘siva siva’, mallayya, Mallanna. I wish I had been more
generous with the merchants, the mild mannered mendicants, and the wayfarers
there. The brown-ochre rocky walls were all reverberating with these sacred
sounds. I could not go down to the patala
ganga. My parents were lucky to walk around all these paths on bare foot. I
do not think in those days, my mother even had a pair of chappals. Did I miss
encircling the white arjuna tree in the compound? I could not get a glimpse of
jasmine creeper entwined on to a tree evoking the poem: “sandhyarambha ….”
Perhaps, still in the deep interiors of forest we can get a view of such a
scene. Luckily, in our backyard, even in the front yard, and on my walks across
the village here, I come across many instances of tall pine, ever green tree
trunks clasped tightly and densely by the English ivy, Virginia creeper, or the
climbing wild grape vine . They are most beautiful, striking to the eye during
the three seasons (i.e., during spring, fall, and winter). Of course, these
scenes are most bewitching to
watch against the clear blue skies in winter and fall. During summers here, the
landscape is crowded with too many distractive majestic trees with loads of
green foliage or bunches of captivating fragrant violet lilacs.
As we’re boarding the
return bus, I almost felt like leaving the precincts of my beloved parents. Our
father too in some respects resembled like the Lord Siva (they say you
become what you meditate on). Always going an extra mile to provide comforts
for his children – whether picking the tastiest mangoes or making a comfy bed.
Such is the unbounded affection of our First Couple (Siva and Parvati) to its
people. The Sanatana Dharma is very interesting: at some places it is very
subtle, at some places it could be very stern, yet it offers many myriad ways
to one’s progress. Through thick and thin, through the vicissitudes of life.
Though we could not spend more time on the hill, still we came home with peace
in mind and renewed strength in our bodies.
Lest the writer conclude
this post with a little disappointment, for not finding the fabled redolent
jasmine creeper clasping a tree trunk, the kind guru Adi Sankara intervened and
gave me a gift. Out of nowhere, on a routine walk in the woods of the Garden
State I came across this alluring beautiful scene: A Japanese honeysuckle vine
spiraling on to a bare oak tree trunk with double colored (yellow and white)
sweet smelling long stemmed flowers. Thus what has been missed on the hills of
Srisailam is found readily in the northeast woods here. It is only natural,
isn’t it? All exploration must finally come to a full circle, must cease at
finding the ‘antara-atma’ here close to one’s heart (Tyagayya’s “marugElara మరుగేలరా”
and “maaru paluka మారు పలుక ” come to my mind). And any discovery, if it needs to be
helpful to the explorer, must happen now!
